


Hurt Me Harder

by trisswrites



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blowjobs, Choking, Classroom Sex, Crying, Crylo Ren, Cunnilingus, Desire, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Dominant Kylo Ren, Eating out, Eventual Romance, F/M, Face Slapping, Floor Sex, Forbidden Love, Freudian Elements, Healing Sex, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren is Not Nice, Light BDSM, Multiple Orgasms, Mystery, Overstimulation, Professor Kylo Ren, Public Sex, Reader-Insert, Repression, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Shower Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Student!Reader - Freeform, Submissive Reader, Teacher-Student Relationship, Vaginal Fingering, Verbal Humiliation, Woman on Top, adding tags as I go, guys obviously it's not a sexual slow burn. it's an emotional slow burn., just all around crying, kylo notices this, like........really slow, long fic, professor!kylo ren, reader is a bit of a party girl, reader is an overacheiver, reader makes good grades but could do better if she tried, referring to your professor by his last name, sex in front of a mirror, sexual tension in the middle of class, story-rich, teacher refers to you as your last name which is hot idk, this fic is now the length of 2 novels, what am I doing with my life, who the hell is ben solo?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-20 03:50:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 49
Words: 169,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22075762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trisswrites/pseuds/trisswrites
Summary: “I need you to tell me that this is what you want. Before we go further,” he nipped at your jaw suddenly, causing a sigh of pleasure to spill from your lips, “I need your permission.” His head moved lower, sucking at your collarbone, threatening your skin with his teeth. It was all you could do to keep your hips from erratically bucking forward. “With it,” he continued, “you agree to trust me. To trust that I won’t hurt you.” He pulled away then, face hovering inches from your own, his hand moving to lift your chin. “Much.”---Your talent in English literature hasn’t gone unnoticed by your professor, Kylo Ren, but you lack the focus and application to meet your full potential. Perhaps he can urge you to give in to that potential. And to him.But the more you learn about Kylo Ren, the more you realize you can use his own tactics as a professor to help unravel the past that he refuses to face.Or, you’re infatuated with your dark and brooding English professor, Kylo Ren, who, to your surprise, returns the sentiment.
Relationships: Ben Solo | Kylo Ren & Reader, Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s), Ben Solo | Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 1076
Kudos: 3075





	1. The Classroom

**Author's Note:**

> Hello sweet beans! Please enjoy chapter one of this narrative. I gotta warn you: these chapters or long and read more like a chapter from a novel than a one shot or PWP piece. Or at least that’s the intention. ( I don’t say that to flatter myself- I’m genuinely sort of concerned they’re too long, but in my revisions I couldn’t bring myself to cut anything because I just want all the interactions between these two idiots.) Honestly who’s to say. If you’re here just for smut, it begins about 3k words in or so. HOWEVER!! I would urge you to read the whole thing because while writing it, my intention was to create sexual tension out the wahzoo, and though I’m an amateur, I think thebuild up makes the real thing so much more delicious, and the tension is so spicy in itself ;) However you’d like to read this story, though, please enjoy, and feel free to leave comments! With enough feedback I will definitely continue, and even without it, I probably still will bc tbh I think I need to get this out of my system. Happy reading and don’t fuck your professors IRL!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I need you to tell me that this is what you want. Before we go further,” he nipped at your jaw suddenly, causing a sigh of pleasure to spill from your lips, “I need your permission.” His head moved lower, sucking at your collarbone, threatening your skin with his teeth. It was all you could do to keep your hips from erratically bucking forward. “With it,” he continued, “you agree to trust me. To trust that I won’t hurt you.” He pulled away then, face hovering inches from your own, his hand moving to lift your chin. “Much.”  
> \---  
> Your talent in English literature hasn’t gone unnoticed by your professor, Kylo Ren, but you lack the focus and application to meet your full potential. Perhaps he can urge you to give in to that potential. And to him. 
> 
> But the more you learn about Kylo Ren, the more you realize you can use his own tactics as a professor to help unravel the past that he refuses to face. 
> 
> Or, you’re infatuated with your dark and brooding English professor, Kylo Ren, who, to your surprise, returns the sentiment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello sweet beans! Please enjoy chapter one of this narrative. I gotta warn you: these chapters are long and read more like a chapter from a novel than a one shot or PWP piece. Or at least that’s the intention. ( I don’t say that to flatter myself- I’m genuinely sort of concerned they’re too long, but in my revisions I couldn’t bring myself to cut anything because I just want all the interactions between these two idiots.) Honestly who’s to say. If you’re here just for smut, it begins about 3k words in or so. HOWEVER!! I would urge you to read the whole thing because while writing it, my intention was to create sexual tension out the wahzoo, and though I’m an amateur, I think the build up makes the real thing so much more delicious, and the tension is so spicy in itself ;) However you’d like to read this story, though, please enjoy, and feel free to leave comments! With enough feedback I will definitely continue, and even without it, I probably still will bc tbh I think I need to get this out of my system. Happy reading and don’t fuck your professors IRL!

━━━┓ ✠ **PART I** ✠ ┏━━━

Nothing said "hungover" like sporting the darkest pair of shades you could find and the largest water bottle you owned—42 ounces to be exact. You strolled into Holdo Hall with both in tow, your oversized Lulu's sunglasses still covering your eyes until you rounded the corner to your English lit classroom You couldn't have Professor Ren seeing you wearing them, though even if you took them off, he would likely guess your sorry state anyway. You were probably fighting a losing battle—having it in your head that you could wordlessly convince him that you had shown up fresh-minded and ready to learn when you looked as exhausted as you did.

Usually, you would just skip class to sleep off your hangover and take the absence for the day. Your grades were good enough to do it; you skirted just above average. You probably would have excelled in most of your courses (not math) if you put in more time. But you found it generally hard to focus once the clock turned midnight and you were still trying to study. Around that time, you'd abandon your work and turn on Netflix if you were still studying at all by that point. And you'd take a party any night (even a weeknight) over a night of cramming. Case in point: last night's excursion to Finn and Poe's house party.

You coasted on your in-class participation and test-taking skills—certainly not your homework marks. You missed an assignment here and there, but you would have been a truly gifted student if you just applied yourself more. But that was easier said than done, and you settled on simply being marginally better than most.

But English lit was different—topics in lit theory, to be exact. You were an undergrad junior in a graduate level course doing passably well. English was your strong suit, so you were able to skate by even easier than usual.

You hoped Professor Ren noticed your gifts in writing. You generally passed with B+'s and the occasional and blessed A-'s in his class, which was especially decent given that he was a notoriously hard grader. A part of you was continuously disappointed with yourself; think of how much you could impress him if you _really_ applied yourself. Learned better focus. You would be his shining top student.

But that wasn't your reality, and this far into the semester, it was probably too late now. You were just near the top, blending in with all the rest.

Professor Ren entered the classroom at four o'clock on the dot; just as he always did. He looked stoic and strong; rested but aloof, apathetic, even, but _laser-focused._ Like someone in the back row could stick a piece of gum under their table and he would notice.

And then destroy them.

Most people were terrified of him. Enthralled, but terrified. You couldn't exclude yourself from that majority.

He didn't say a word of greeting when he entered the room, never did. Instead, he merely set his materials on his desk and today, started up the computer and opened up Powerpoint.

Christ, it was lecture day. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, wondering how you were going to stay awake, even for one of his hour-long lectures. Most the time you found them fascinating. More than once, you had taken the lead in classroom discussions. More than once, it had resulted in you and Professor Ren openly debating the topic, going head to head while the rest of the class doodled in their margins or listened uncomfortably.

Not everyone had your passion. Your challenging wit.

Once, you'd been _sure_ he'd noticed. You'd be sure he'd hold you back after class to tell you he noticed your interest and dedication to the material. But he never did. Probably because he didn't owe you shit, you knew that, but _fuck,_ you wanted to be special. _Truly_ special in his eyes.

But that wasn't going to happen. Not today. _T_ _hat_ much was certain.

"The uncanny." Professor Ren began, eyeing his students. You thought his gaze settled on you, stuck in the middle of the room, but it drifted away. You couldn't help but feel disappointment settling in your chest. "Freud's examination of the uncanny begins in his exploration of aesthetics. How do we recognize the uncanny in art? In literature, in psychology, in life itself? If you'll open up Freud's essay, please; I'd prefer you have a hard copy, but if you have it on your laptop, that's fine." His eyes scanned the classroom through his glasses that you were _sure_ cost at least a couple hundred bucks, a silent warning: _I'll know if you're not paying attention._

The one thing good about lecture day being today of all days was that the blinds were down so you could all see the smartboard. Even the thought of strong sunlight streaming into your eyes made your stomach turn. So you focused instead on your professor. He was unbelievably tall: 6-foot-3 and all muscle. His suit, form fitting and rich-looking and clean, an interesting juxtaposition to his youthful black locks that cascaded down to his jaw.

Sexy as hell.

"Ms. [Y/SURNAME]."

You snapped out of your thoughts, feeling your heart drop to your stomach. _Fuck._ You thought. How long had he been lecturing? If he asked you to repeat anything he'd been talking about for the last however-long, even just to sum it up, you were _fucked._ In a split-second of panic, you scanned the slide that was on the projector, racking your brain trying to tie the words to the reading.

The reading you didn't finish.

_Fuck._

"Ms. [Y/SURNAME]." he repeated coolly.

"Yes, sir." you answered, quickly this time.

"You have horror and disgust." He lifted one hand. "And a sanctimonious reverence." He lifted the other, as if balancing two defying odds. He was clearly continuing off of whatever he'd been saying moments before. Words that you missed. And now he was quizzing you, _you could feel it,_ in front of the entire class. You braced yourself for the question, wracking your brain for every reading you'd ever done on Freud.

"What does Freud surmise causes the dance between the two?"

His eyes bored flaming holes into yours. Were you the only one who felt the burning ache between the two of you?— No, that was insane. Absolutely fucking insane. He was your fucking professor. Lost in your thoughts once more, you chewed the inside of your cheek, eyes falling to your desk, away from his intoxicating and one-sided eye-fucking gaze that you could only be misinterpreting. Why, in a million years, would he have an eye on one of his students when he could probably have anyone he wanted? You got the vibe that maybe he liked older women.

"We don't have all day, Ms. [Y/SURNAME]."

Well, it was Freud after all. And if anyone had a one-size-fits-all answer, it was Freud.

"Sex." you blurted out, eyes snapping back up to meet his. You could have sworn his chin twitched up ever so slightly. Other than that, he was as stoic and still as always. Until you saw, without and doubt and irrevocably, that his eyes narrowed at you.

"Or, the taboo." you corrected yourself. "Specifically, anything sexual in nature. Things that we hide from everyone else. Things that exist in our subconscious that represent our secret desires."

You held your breath, and he held your gaze for a moment. "Threats to our super-ego, the moralizer." He continued, accepting your answer as _correct,_ turning around to pace around the front of the class with his hands clasped behind his back _._ You felt a swell of pride bubble in your chest. "Next time, Ms. [Y/SURNAME] I'm sure we would all appreciate a swifter answer, lest we all fall asleep waiting for you to gather your thoughts."

 _Christ._ You just couldn't gain one single, solitary win. Not against Professor Ren.

Once class was over, and everyone had already started packing up their things five minutes early, _as always,_ Professor Ren stood with his hands on his hips. "I should have your papers back by the end of the week. Until then, I suggest you complete your reading _thoroughly."_

Out of it as usual, you took to packing up your things when half the class was already out the door. You shuddered at the thought of being alone with Professor Ren and scrambled to shove your belongings into your bookbag. Naturally, you were the last out of the door when-

"Not you." You stopped in your tracks, feet away from your exit. He was going to murder you. He _hated_ you. You didn't know why; it's not like you were a bad student. But you could feel it. Maybe the sexual tension you'd sensed between the two of you was just pure fucking rage and irritation on his end. You stared at the opening into the hallway, where students milled about; they did _anything_ but notice you standing in the doorway with real, genuine fear in your eyes.

"Close the door, Ms. [Y/SURNAME]."

Without thinking, you dropped your bag, figuring he wasn't going to let you out of here without a chat that would probably cause you to go home and cry for hours. Might as well brace yourself now and settle in for the ride.

You closed the door.

"I suggest you lock it as well."

 _Is he going to beat me up in here?_ you thought for a brief moment. With motions that weren't your own, you reached out and locked the door, wondering why he was always singling you out. Why he'd humiliated you in front of the entire class.

You turned around to face him. With a sigh, he leaned back on the front of his desk, pinching the bridge of his nose before motioning for you to approach him with two fingers.

You took a single step forward.

He raised his head, eyes meeting yours, and the meaning of it all sunk in. You were alone. With him. And he was staring _straight at you._ You didn't know whether to be thrilled of terrified. So you didn't choose between the two—you were both.

"If you are going to come to my class hungover and unfocused, it would be better if you did not come at all."

Your jaw set. For a moment you didn't say anything. Then, it struck that maybe it wasn't appropriate for a professor to mansplain your own personal life to you.

"I'm not hungover."

He looked at you flatly. "The bags under your eyes are dark enough to make me think you've been punched in the face. Twice."

You swallowed thickly, standing up straight, trying to maintain your dignity.

"It's a Monday, [Y/SURNAME]."

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

His brows cocked. He looked slightly surprised- and something else. Interested. Amused. Contested. Eager. Urging you to keep challenging him.

"When you called on me, I didn't see anyone else fighting me to answer your question. This is confusing stuff, and I know what I'm doing. I'm not a distraction to the class," you argued, "I'm doing well on this unit, I-"

"Your last essay. Why didn't I receive it?" It sounded more like a statement than a question. A flat, monotone phrase meant to make you feel like he already knew the answer. _Because you didn't do it._

"Time got away from me." you admitted. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I-"

Suddenly, he stood, and you felt yourself take a step back.

"You did well in class today, when called upon.," he told you with a small nod, eyes almost understanding. Almost. "But I would argue that giving 'fuck-me' eyes to your professor and speaking incessantly on sexual desires is a bit of a distraction to everyone else."

"You asked the question." you shot back, slightly outraged, holding your ground this time, staring up at his 6-foot-tall frame that hovered over you like an intimidating black shadow. "You called on _me_ specifically to answer it, _knowing_ what I had to say. I know my Freud—my answer was _correct_ ," you said, drawing out the word so he'd get the point, "and Freud would be proud."

He looked at you with darkness in his eyes, jaw set, inches away from you, so close you could smell his rich-guy cologne, it drifted against your senses, making your mind go dizzy, and instantly, instantly-

He was on you. Hands cupped your cheeks as his mouth crashed into yours, lips tight and plush and _wanting_ against your own. He shoved against you until your back hit the door, a good few feet behind you, but you didn't mind the pain that wracked against your entire backside—you were grateful for the support behind you because you were about to melt completely in his arms.

You parted your lips, urging him to open his, moaning into his mouth. Your hands found his hair, his _sexy,_ dark, wavy hair that you'd been dreaming on tugging on for _weeks._ Dragging his lips against yours, one of his hands found your hips. "And the eye-fucking, Ms. [Y/SURNAME]?"

You noticed your chest was rising and falling dramatically, the back of your head resting on the wood behind you. "I would argue," you said, tossing his own words back at him, hoping they'd land heavy on his chest with a painful impact, "that you're just as guilty of that as I am."

Professor Ren smirked, pushing himself off the door and away from you. You panted, resisting the urge to pull him back to you. You were pretty positive that he wouldn't appreciate that move. That you weren't going to be the one calling the shots.

You were completely and utterly at his mercy—the mercy of Kylo fucking Ren.

Slowly, he took a few steps back, a hand rubbing his jaw. He was clearly in thought, eyeing you for a moment before his gaze fell to the floor, contemplative and measuring. Within moments, he'd made up his mind.

"Get on the desk." He said, snapping his fingers and pointing to his desk that sat at the front of the classroom.

"What?"

"Sit your ass on my fucking desk." He said, storming to you furiously, hissing the words into your face. Eyes wide, your head hit the back of the door again. "Make your choice." He said, hand clenching around your wrist. "You will sit on my desk, or you will _leave._ Now."

It wasn't the hardest of decisions, but that didn't mean you weren't nervous.

You did as he told, walking towards the desk and lifting yourself to sit on its cold surface. You could feel the chill of the tabletop begin where the cuffs of your denim shorts ended. As he walked towards you, for once, your attention wasn't on him. Instead, it was on the door. Locked as it was, you were pretty sure the other professors had master keys. Panic set in-

-And dissipated when Professor Ren placed a hand gently to hold your jaw. "Don't worry about that." He breathed lowly against your neck. It was as if he was reading your mind.

He nudged your legs open at the knee, using his thigh to step in between them and draw himself as close as possible. His hand moved from your jaw downward to clasp your neck with the same gentleness as before. He wasn't grasping.

But he could. You _knew_ he could if he wanted to.

His lips went to your ear. Feeling his breath against your delicate skin made your mind go fuzzy and the clenched muscles of your core to drop. "I need you to tell me that this is what you want. Before we go further," he nipped at your jaw suddenly, causing a sigh of pleasure to spill from your lips, "I need your permission." His head moved lower, sucking at your collarbone, threatening your skin with his teeth. It was all you could do to keep your hips from erratically bucking forward. "With it," he continued, "you agree to trust me. To trust that I won't hurt you." He pulled away then, face hovering inches from your own, his hand moving to lift your chin. "Much."

Another sound tumbled from your lips- something between a whimper and a moan. A clear indicator that you were dissolving in his arms. A smirk hinted at the edge of his lips. He leaned in closer, lips barely brushing against yours. "Will you give in to me, [Y/N]?"

Your head dropped back and you groaned, hands tangling in his hair.

Fuck. You thought he'd never ask.

"Tell me." He hissed, mouth traveling back to your jaw, hand moving to clutch your hair. He squeezed, pulling on it slightly, and the pain set your soul afire and made your eyes burn—likely a hint of the freaky shit you were sure he was into. Using your hair as leverage, he yanked your gaze forward to meet his. "Say it."

Your breath hitched in your throat. He moved your head, using your hair as his reins, ever so slightly. To let you know who was in control. "I'm yours." You breathed against his lips. _All yours. "_ Take me."

His lips found yours again, and this time, the kiss was rougher. Deeper. You parted your lips to allow his tongue to find yours. His hands rested on either thigh, sliding gradually towards your core. You moaned into his open mouth as he ripped himself away from you to yank your top over your head. He tossed it furiously to the side, and as quickly as he was gone, he was back on you, licking at your lips as if your kiss was a whole fucking meal, nibbling at your swollen pout.

Your hands grabbed whatever they could but soon, he pulled away again, this time dropping to his knees in front of you.

 _Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, this isn't happening._ You whimpered at the sight of him, the sight of Professor Ren's face just inches from your cunt.

"Unbutton." He ordered, tilting his head down to bite the inside of your thigh—hard

Without warning, without control, you threw your head back and let out a yelp.

You don't know how he moved so fast, but his face was in front of yours before you'd realized he'd moved. His hand was around your jaw again. This time, his grip was not so gentle. But you could feel his fingers, his whole hand, trembling as he held you.

He was still holding back, you realized. If you didn't know better, you'd think that he...wanted to _hit_ you.

"You will be quiet." He warned through a tantalizing hiss. "And you will unbutton your-" he glanced down at what you were wearing. " _Shorts.,"_ he sneered, the judgement in his voice plainer than day itself.

Lips tilted up to his, you unbuttoned your denim shorts. Sticking his fingers through the ripped holes on the front, the holes that you liked, that showed more skin, that added what you thought was a cute, sexy, distressed look, he ripped them down, leaving you nearly bare in your bra and panties. You had a habit of buying mostly black undergarments. But now, here, wearing a black mega-bra that cupped your tits and a matching thong—you hadn't planned for it, you just wore a lot of leggings, so generally speaking, buying thongs was the move—you realized you looked a bit like a fucking porn star.

"Look at you, wearing these things," he muttered, throwing the shorts lazily off to the side. He moved to grip your waist, hands traveling across your skin as they pleased, taking you in, feeling you, feeling your bear skin, fingers dragging over the waistline of your panties. "Wearing _these_. You walk around like you're begging to get fucked."

His hands roamed up your belly to grasp at your breasts, rolling them beneath his massive, strong hands, feeling them, squeezing them with considerable force.

You hissed at the pain, hips rolling forward. You wrapped your legs around his, hoping to draw him closer. He noticed, and he smirked down at you.

"Looks like she _is,"_ he concluded. " _Begging_ to get fucked." Spitting the words at you, he reached around and unclasped your bra in less than a second.

 _Okay,_ you thought, _so this isn't his first rodeo. Or his second or his third or his tenth, by the looks of it. Good to know._

In the midst of your thoughts, his mouth dove onto your nipple, eliciting a whine from your lips. "Oh, fuck," you breathed, your moans and whimpers continuing as his tongue swirled around it. He sucked you, released, and pressed with his tongue, before taking it again lightly in between his teeth and pulling away until your breast popped from his mouth and bounced against your chest. As he turned his attention to the other one, his right hand traveled down to your-

" _There-"_ You gasped, his fingers circling your clit through your panties as his other hand worked your breast against his mouth as he bit at the skin around your nipple. Pleasure shot through your cunt, just beneath his fingers, and pleasure shot through your nipples, the ecstasy tingling within your sensitive skin.

He dipped his finger under your panties, pushing them aside and running a finger up your drenched slit. You heard him snicker darkly from in between your breasts, _bragging._ If your moans didn't give away your blatant arousal, _this_ certainly did.

You wondered what he'd do to you if you weren't on such a time crunch—if there wasn't the threat of a teacher, or god forbid a _student,_ knocking on the door from the other side. You shuddered at the thought.

Kylo's moves were frantic and quick. He was going to pleasure you, that much was clear. He was going to make you pleasure _him._ But he was going to do it quickly.

Your suspicion was confirmed as his hands moved to undo his belt, fingers working in a frenzy. He unbuttoned himself and shoved the flaps of fabric to the side, reaching into his underwear and pulling out his thick, hard, pulsating cock.

It wept at the slit, already hungry for you. He pumped himself in his hand a few times, suppressing a groan against gritted teeth. You felt sheer pleasure at the sight of it, the sight of your English professor sliding his hand up and down his cock. _Him._ The man who taught you Freud and assigned you essays and judged your intelligence for a living.

The power of it, the power he had over you, in more ways than one, was enough to make your pussy feel like it was about to leak out all your arousal onto the top of his desk.

He pressed a hand on the center of your chest and pushed you down, your back hitting the desk roughly. His hands came down beside you with a thud, knocking over books and pencils aside as he splayed his hands on either side of you, each item crashing to the floor, forgotten.

He kissed you again, roughly, moving one hand back to his cock, stroking it as he teased your entrance. "I'm going to fuck you on this desk," he growled into your ear, "and I'm going to fuck you hard. And I'm going to wrap my hand around your throat and choke you while I'm doing it. Is that what you want?"

Letting out another whimper, brow furrowed, you nodded. "Please. Please, professor, I want- I need you to fuck me, to choke me, I want you to control when I _breathe,_ I..." your words were a jumbled mess. You were finally melted, a dribbling pool of lust and wetness and _want._

And in one swift, rough motion, Professor Ren slid into you, newly free hand going to your throat and _squeezing._

You gasped at the intrusion, your tight pussy clenching around his cock, forced to accommodate his length. _Fuck,_ it stung, you were so tight, and _he..._

He rested on his elbow, face inches from yours. You liked that, liked how close he was, liked how his chest was pressed against yours as he fucked you. He tightened the grip on your neck, and you felt the blood rush to your head as your eyes rolled back.

His thrusts were erratic, rough, wanting. He pumped himself in and out of you like his life depended on it, thrusting, _forcing_ you to take his length into a pussy that was too small for him, that needed to be stretched.

"I didn't know I had such an eager slut in my class," he panted, his hair falling down to graze the skin of your face. His lips were so close to yours you could feel the words brush against your own. You tried to moan, but your airway was nearly completely cut off. From between your lips escaped a raspy choke, and then a gravely groan that caused a string of filthy expletives to fall from your professor's lips.

"Oh, _fuck_ , you-" he panted, gazing down at your red, pulsating face, the blood trapped from the tight clench he had around your neck. It made his cock twitch inside you. "Look at you trying to- _mmmm-_ moan for me. Fuck, you look so delicious." He smirked devilishly down at you, watching you struggle beneath him, and getting off on the thrill. He released the grip on your neck, and you gasped and sputtered before his thumb twisted into your mouth. Without instruction, you sucked back on it, groaning, trying to catch your breath as your lips worked at his thumb.

Each thrust grew harder, and your body was wracked against the desktop you were splayed out and open on. Your tits bounced wildly, your back arched. You wanted so badly to scream, to moan, to alert the whole building that Kylo Ren was taking you, marking you as his. Instead, you bit down on his thumb in an attempt to keep your mouth shut. He grunted in response, drawing it out of your mouth and move to rub circles around your clit.

The delicious pressure buried deep inside you and now _this_ —it was going to set you over the edge and _soon,_ without a doubt.

His breathing grew ragged and your hand fell to your lower belly, where the pressure was the greatest. You felt your release brewing, hot and tingling in your core, unmistakable. And judging by the way his thrusts grew _uncontrollable,_ you guessed he was teetering over the edge.

You pressed your lips together and moaned, not daring take your eyes off of him as he chased his own release and brought you dangerously close to yours. His fingers worked rapidly against your clit.

Your lips swollen and wet, you kissed him until you couldn't kiss him any longer, until the force of your brewing orgasm grew too overwhelming.

"Professor, I'm gonna cum," you blurted. "I'm gonna cum for you."

He fucked you harder then, if that was possible, the sound of his skin smacking against yours turning to a ringing in your ears as your orgasm gripped your entire body.

Every inch of you trembled and shook as your orgasm ripped through you. You gazed into his deliciously dark eyes for as long as you could, until your release grew too powerful and you squeezed them shut. His hand clamped down on your mouth just in time to keep you from screaming. You screamed anyway, but the sound was muffled against his skin. Your tongue licked at his fingers, you couldn't help it, couldn't control _anything._ Your frame quaked as you rode out your orgasm, and you opened your eyes to take him in, drink in the sight of him, delicious and drunk.

He removed his hand when you stopped screaming, beginning to come down from your orgasm, though whispers of pleasure still had your pussy throbbing. "Oh fuck, I can feel you in my gut," you whimpered.

It sent him over the edge. Professor Ren grunted as he spilled his load inside of you, groaning as he came. He rode out his orgasm with erratic thrusts, and you felt each spurt of hot seed shoot into you as his hips slowed. He dropped his head into the crook of your neck, hips still rolling slowly to ride out every bit of pleasure you had given him. Your fingers snaked through his hair, drawing him close, and you both laid there, breathing heavily, chests heaving, savoring the moment while it lasted.

You wanted him to stay there, breathing into the curve of your throat. You wanted him to kiss your skin. But all too soon, he pulled away. He looked at you, examining your face. "Are you alright?" he breathed.

Still panting, you nodded, bringing up a hand to cup his cheek. He turned away from your touch, turning around to redo his pants and make himself look half presentable. He ran a hand through his hair before leaning down to whip up your undergarments from the floor.

"Here," he said, holding them out to you. His voice was as stoic and as distant as it ever was now. Again. You were grateful to have seen him lose control.

You began to dress, finding your shirt and shorts on opposite ends of the classroom. He stood still as you did so and when you turned to face him, it seemed he was mulling over his actions, walking himself through what the two of you had just done.

You felt a twinge of guilt, and figured that the least you could do was help him clean up. You looked at all the contents from the desk that lay scattered on the floor and knelt down to gather them. Books, papers, and mail- your eyes settled on an envelope as you lifted it off the floor. In the return address read "Mr. and Mrs. Organa-Solo." It was made out to a- to a " _Ben Solo."_ You furrowed your brow. What was this doing on his desk?

Suddenly, you felt his presence behind you, and you hastily went back to gathering up items.

"I'll take care of this, Ms. [Y/SURNAME]" he said, voice low and soft. Pensive. Regretful?

You stood, turning around to place the items in his hands and giving him a small smile, hoping he could not sense what you had just seen. He did not return the expression, and your gaze dropped to the floor. You walked to the door slowly, sensing you were already overstaying your welcome but hoping he would ask you not to leave.

He didn't.

You gathered your bag and took one more turn-around to look at him before you left for good. He was looking at you too. "Until next time, Ms. [Y/SURNAME]."

You nodded, giving him one last melancholy smile before turning, unlocking the door, and stepping into the hallway.

You should have been thinking about the experience you just had with him. Your _body_ was certainly sensing it. You felt the beginnings of a bruise pulsing at your thigh where he'd sunk his teeth into your skin. You should have been thinking about what it felt like to kiss the man that you'd been fantasizing about for _weeks._

But as you walked down the empty hallway, sunset streaming in through the windows and illuminating the floor, you could only think of one question, everything else be damned and forgotten, your curiosity getting the better of you:

_Who the hell was Ben Solo?_


	2. The Office

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You need a teacher. I can show you the ways of the Force." But the Force is schoolwork and also sex.  
> I PROMISE it won't all be smut. But in the meantime, here's some more smut lol.

It was Friday night. And you, for once, weren't out at the bars, or the clubs, or at one of your friends' houses getting marvelously drunk. You were sitting on your bedroom floor, papers and folders and notebooks scattered around you like they were the points on a pentagon and you were trying to conjure good marks on your finals. Well, it was only _one_ final that really mattered.

Instead of going out, you decided to stay in and study for Ren's class. Final exams were a few weeks away, but the end of the term was always the fastest.

There were three main takeaways from your encounter with Professor Ren earlier in the week.

1) He had fucked you senseless on his desk in your English lit classroom, and he'd made you scream like a wild animal in heat.

2) You'd found a letter on _his_ desk, with _his_ property, not made out to a "Kylo Ren," but instead to a "Ben Solo," making you more confused about your mysterious professor than ever.

3)He had promised your class, just before your encounter, that your essays would be returned to you on Friday.

Friday was nearly over, and class had come and gone, and that day in class, Ren had failed to hand back your essays. He'd failed to give you so much as one fleeting glance, come to mention it.

You tried not to let that thought get under your skin and burrow there.

 _Think,_ you reminded yourself, _think._

Your essay- _not_ the one you had failed to turn in, but the one before that- from _three weeks ago,_ summed up Russian formalism to the extent it would be on the final, you were sure of it. It was a damn good paper. What was that articulate thing you'd said about the organic model? It was good as hell, you remembered that. You wracked your brain but couldn't come up with anything. Three weeks later and Russian formalism seemed like a lifetime away.

So much had happened between then and now. You'd fucked your professor, for one thing. And you'd discovered he may not be who everyone thought he was.

You stood up in defeat, glancing at your clock. Eight PM. With any luck, Professor Ren would still be in his office. He was notorious for working late, or so you'd been told, and if he was worth his word, he'd be working late to get those late papers graded. Plus, he was the head of the department; all the more reason that he'd be there longer than everyone else.

You took the ten-minute walk across campus, hands shoved into your jacket pocket. The grounds were nearly empty; you were sure everyone besides you was out on the town enjoying their youth while they still could.

You, on the other hand, approached the English building under the cover of darkness and moonlight and stars, walking along the side of its brick walls.

You knew from your friend, a TA to one of the adjunct English professors, that the handicap entrance to the building remained unlocked even after five PM when the offices technically closed. And you could access the offices through the back stairwell.

You climbed the steps, beginning to feel nervous. You'd take just one quick peek, and on the off chance that Ren was still there, you would collect your essay and leave. Nothing more, nothing less.

You pushed open the door to the third floor, peering into the hallway. Most everyone had certainly left for the night; the floor was dark with the exception of one office at the end of the corridor that was obviously lit. You held your breath and walked slowly, suddenly wishing you hadn't come. You didn't actually expect himself to _be there,_ and even if a part of you did, the false sense of confidence you had just a few minutes earlier in your room when you were irritated, and quite frankly, missing your professor, was gone with the fucking wind.

A trembling, slightly sweaty hand, turned the knob on his door, and you stepped inside, holding your breath and wishing you were dead.

His office was one of the reasons you'd guessed he'd come from money. You'd only been in there once before, when he wasn't there, to drop off a late assignment. You recognized the old-money smell, the mahogany study-desk, the elegant artwork that hung on the ceiling. No pictures of friends or family, though, you couldn't help but notice.

Professor Ren's eyes lifted from the document on his desk and met yours instantaneously. For a moment, he made no reaction to seeing you. After that moment had passed, he gave you a simple, "Office hours are closed, Ms. [Y/SURNAME]." And went back to reading whatever was in front of him.

You swallowed thickly, fighting the urge to run, never look back, and bury yourself in a hole deep in the woods beyond campus. Here you were, suddenly chasing after your professor at night when he likely had no desire to see you again. That much, he had made clear. You saw him Wednesday and earlier that day for class. They way he acted—or _didn't_ act, rather—was like the whole thing had never happened. The way he so poignantly ignored your presence indicated that he must have seriously regretted what had happened between you.

"Yeah, sorry," you breathed. "Not to be difficult, but you said you'd have our formalism essays back today, and I'm having trouble studying without feedback."

"Perhaps you should take more thorough notes then, Ms. [Y/SURNAME]." His eyes didn't lift from his paper.

Your jaw set. "Perhaps you should turn in our graded assignments when you say you're going to," you shot back. _That_ caused him to look up at you. For a second, you regretted talking back to him. But there they were—those eyes. Burning into yours. The eyes you'd been dreaming about all week. "It's just, it's sort of hard to study the topic without knowing if I've completely bombed the subject matter. I _need_ your comments to prepare for the test."

Kylo leaned back in his chair, removing his glasses and setting them neatly on his desk. For a moment, he considered you, watching you with narrowed eyes. Then he spoke. "You didn't bomb the paper," he said, rifling through a folder on his desk. "It wasn't bad. Review the comments and you'll be fine." He held your essay out to you and you took it from his hands. It was hard to miss the bright red "B-" at the top.

You couldn't help but frown.

"I've said this to you before, [Y/SURNAME]. You have so much more talent than you show me in your work. I know you're holding yourself back. And I don't know if that's because you're out partying on the weekends-"

"It's a Friday night and I'm literally standing here in your office begging for my paper back," you corrected him swiftly.

"Or because you lack the focus," he continued, ignoring you, raising his hand and his voice over yours. "I hand you this paper back, and you've done a decent job, better than over half the class, and yet you're disappointed. Why is that?" he murmured, voice dark and challenging. His eyes narrowed.

You clenched your jaw. He was right. You were disappointed because you knew you could do better.

Your gazed move to the side, avoiding him.

"So which is it? Weekends, or focus?"

You took a deep breath. "Focus." A beat. "I don't know why you seem to be convinced that I'm some party monster," you snapped.

"Perhaps because you show up to my class hungover on a weekday."

"I know I can do better," you told him, frustration plain in your voice. "I don't know what it is. I settle for doing a passable job and then regret not putting in more time once I've got the damned thing back," you said, waving the "B-" paper in your hand.

He leaned forward, propping himself on his elbows. "You're better than passable. Your writing is sloppy, your conclusions always a fraction as strong as your introductions. You're burnt out by the end of the paper, or you're bored, and it shows. Yet your arguments are _strong._ Maybe the strongest in your class. You have a grasp on the material but you let yourself fizzle out before you're done, so you don't articulate them as well as you should."

He looked at you with a strictness, but with an understanding, too. Almost like he'd been a student once, too, though you couldn't even _fathom_ what he was like in those days.

"You need to learn focus," he told you. "And discipline." He leaned back in his chair, folding his hands over his lap. Watching you.

"Well," you said defeatedly, lifting your paper in sheepish thanks and starting towards the door. "I'll try. Thanks." You turned the handle, and then-

"I could teach you."

His words stopped you dead in your tracks, just as they had when he said " _Not you...close the door,"_ just the other day.

You turned to face him, shifting your weight nervously. _Focus. And discipline._

"You mean like... a tutoring thing?"

His eyes dropped downward and he chuckled. "Something like that."

Silence hung in the air as you tried to gather his meaning. When he stood, it snapped you out of your thoughts. He walked to the front of his desk, leaning against it casually, just as he'd done on Monday before he...

He crossed his arms, head tilted to the side. "I could help you. Privately. We could meet at a time that works for you. I think you'd benefit from an extra assignment or two. I really do," he said sincerely. "And, of course, you still owe me an eight-page-paper, so perhaps that could be thrown into the mix. You can work on your writing, I will help you through a few drafts, tell you what's not working and why. And keep you on track."

You closed your eyes, shaking your head, confused. "So, you want to tutor me, but instead of helping me with my existing assignments, you want to give me even _more_ assignments to try and balance before the end of the term on top of exams?"

"I'm trying to push you, [Y/SURNAME], because I believe that you could be _truly good_ if you applied yourself. But you're _not_ applying yourself, and so you're not shining. _I_ believe that with a little guidance," He looked at you seriously, arms crossed, eyes sincere. All notions of what had happened on his desk the other day weren't there. He was speaking to you as a teacher, now, a mentor. "You can shine."

You took a deep breath, considering the option. You folded your arms protectively over your chest. You _did_ want to be exceptional. When you were in high school, you'd dreamed of being a great writer, or maybe an editor for some large and important firm somewhere in a big city. To take the world by storm, to grow famous and rich and renowned by scholars like Ren. Then college happened, and you got knocked on your ass. Maybe this was your chance to get back up. To be truly _great._

"And um..." You cleared your throat anxiously. "In return?" Your eyes darted back up to his.

He licked his lips, eyes finally darkening. Now, you recognized him as the man from Monday afternoon. He lifted his chin. "Are you asking if I'm exchanging my knowledge for sexual favors?"

"It's a cliché," you said, giving him a pointed look.

"This isn't a situation where you fuck me and I raise your grades. You don't need it. Your grades are fine," he said simply.

"Then...then about Monday-"

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in defeat. "I'm tempted, [Y/SURNAME]. Asking that in exchange for what I'm offering you. It would certainly help the arrangement. You need to be taught discipline," he replied, this time looking at you with wicked eyes. A double entendre, you supposed.

"I don't believe that you'd offer so much of your time for nothing." You chewed the inside of your cheek as his gaze returned to yours.

"I won't force you to submit to my will, and I won't _require_ anything in return. However, should any events transpire between us...events like what happened after class on Monday...I won't argue against it."

You shifted eagerly, hips swinging slightly. You couldn't help but look at him with thirsty eyes.

He tilted his jaw upwards, eyeing you, before placing his hands on the desk beside him and looking down. "There's something you need to understand about the arrangement if you go that route, [Y/SURNAME]. I'm not a man easily satisfied. I held back the other day, I..." His voice trailed off and he shook his head. You remembered. You remembered how he clenched your jaw with tense fingers that somehow barely touched you. He had been holding back. Trying not slap you, was what you had thought.

He raised his gaze, decidedly looking into your eyes with plain candor and forthrightness. "If I have you again, I won't be able to hold back. You need to understand what you'd be agreeing to."

You pressed your back against the door. "Then tell me." Your voice wasn't above a whisper.

He inhaled, his gaze never leaving yours. "I would need you to consent to trying...rougher aspects of our rendezvous earlier in the week. There's a potential for pain. A need for obedience. _Your_ obedience. And you need to understand that there are things that I will do to you. Things I might say, actions I might take, that should never, and _will_ never be repeated when we're not...being intimate. Things that I will never say or do to you when I'm not fucking you. If you don't think you can handle going down that path, then I would suggest you don't. I need you completely or not at all, do you understand?"

You nodded shakily. "I understand," you told him firmly. "And I agree."

"The last thing I want to do is cause you pain without causing you any pleasure."

You took a step forward. "I understand," you repeated, slower this time.

He took a breath. "Well then," he muttered. "Let's begin."

Before you could blink, his arms were wrapped tightly around you, spinning you around roughly and shoving your front onto the desk, your ass high in the air. You grunted as your cheek smacked the desk, imagining him smirking from behind you. He was flush against you, running one hand up and down your thigh and holding you in place by the back of your neck with the other.

He hummed at the sight of you, fingers toying with the hem of your dress. "Always dressing like you're ready to get fucked," he muttered, hand dipping under the skirt to palm your ass. Your breath hitched in anticipation.

He gripped your right ass cheek firmly, his other hand still forcing your face flat and squished against his desk. "I think I need to make sure you know what I expect of you." He hummed nonchalantly, hand rubbing down your ass to your thigh and back up. His touch was rough and wanting, and it left your pussy absolutely clenched as you whined under the weight of his hands.

And then all at once, his touch was rapid and sudden. He yanked down your panties. "If you need me to stop, say so," was his only warning before his palm came down on your ass.

The loudness of the noise the smack had made was...concerning. It filled the room, and you grunted, the impact of the smack causing you to jolt forward. You moaned as he rubbed the skin where he'd hit you before spanking you again.

"Does that hurt?" he asked you.

"A little."

_SMACK._

This time, you cried out, a surprised yelp collapsing from your lips. You breathed heavily after the impact, the skin of your ass cheek stinging and buzzing with tingles. "Fuck!" you breathed, chest heaving. Out of your peripheral, you watched him shake out his hand. It seemed that one was enough to make his skin sting, too.

You could hear his breathing, heavy and labored. You could feel him watching you, too; you didn't need to see them to know that he was absolutely ravishing you with his eyes.

This time, his hand came from underneath, smacking your pussy, making you jolt and cry out, wriggling beneath him. Your cunt buzzed and throbbed, aching for more.

"Fuck yes," he breathed from behind you, fingers teasing your folds for a fleeting moment.

He moved to your left ass cheek now, smacking it just as red and raw as the right, each spank gaining intensity and force. Fuck, it hurt, but it was _good,_ good enough to send shockwaves through your spine and lightning bolts from your burning skin straight into your blood. You eagerly pushed yourself onto him, rubbing your ass against his crotch and rolling your hips. The material of his pants stung the raw, worn skin where you'd been struck.

He groaned, reaching forward to cup your throat, jerking your head upwards so his lips were against your ear. "You eager bitch," he growled. In any other context, the word would have ignited you with anger. In _this_ context, it practically made your pussy drip with want. "Don't know how to be patient?" He squeezed your throat, and you coughed and sputtered at the tension. "I want to fuck you right now," he hissed. "It's difficult to stop myself. But I know how much better it will be if I wait."

And yet he still managed to push himself off of you, placing a hand on your shoulder and pushing you to your knees. They scraped against the carpet and you hissed at the sensation.

One hand seized the back of your head, fingers fisting your hair. The other moved to expertly unbuckle his belt on its own. Impressive. Your eyes flickered up to meet his. He stared down at you, gaze so unbelievably shadowy that it made you shudder.

You placed your hands on the sides of his thighs as he pulled his length free, giving it a few slow, languid strokes. It was so close to your face, and seeing it up close made you realize how impressive the size of it was. You swallowed thickly, your mouth already wetting, and you squirmed in your seat, praying for some friction against your center.

Gripping the base of his cock, glistening with pre-cum already, he directed the tip in front of your lips.

"You know what I want," he ordered. The instructions were unspoken and yet abundantly clear.

Slowly, and with your eyes never leaving his, you raised your hand, and your grip replaced his. You began slowly, licking up his shaft at a glacial pace. You heard him inhale, knowing he was feeling the beginnings of pleasure. You swirled your tongue around the tip a few times.

And then, suddenly and all at once, you swallowed down his length, your lips making it to your own grip, knowing if you took him any deeper, you'd choke.

You heard him groan, and the noise shot straight to your cunt. You moaned around Kylo's cock, the very _noises_ he made from above you causing you to lose yourself in your own little world of pleasure.

You began bobbing your head, hollowing your cheeks and keeping your wet lips tight around his width. You pumped with your hand as you did so, finding a steady rhythm, slow at first, and then faster, faster, faster.

"No hands," he ordered suddenly. Your eyes had fluttered shut; you looked back up at him with momentary confusion, before he ripped your hand away. You continued sucking him off, and he began pushing you deeper. You whimpered around his length as you felt him open the back of your throat. You allowed yourself to get used to the sensation, and the deeper you took him, the more he hissed and groaned. " _Fuck, that's good,"_ he panted breathlessly. "Just like that. Just like that."

Your hands placed in your lap, you took to bringing your fingers to trail at the hem of your skirt before dipping beneath to touch yourself. He looked so good, sounded so good, tasted so _fucking unbelievable,_ you couldn't stop yourself. The sensation of him filling your mouth was enough to make you quiver. You guessed you'd be able to come undone in a matter of _seconds._ You rubbed a few slow circles and moaned in response.

"Don't fucking touch yourself," he growled suddenly.

You whimpered again, and he gripped your head harder. Before, you were in the lead, bobbing your head to take in his cock. Now, he began thrusting, grunting with each sharp motion, forcing himself in deeper, _fucking_ your mouth.

You cried out, or did so as best you could with your mouth flooded with his outrageous member. He fucked your face forcefully, hips jutting. The movement was too fast and erratic to keep up with. You focused on your tongue instead, and keeping your lips tight as he took control. You noticed that when your tongue grazed and pressed the lower part of his shaft, it drove him wild.

" _Fuck!"_ he thundered, his movements becoming less restrained. His grip on your hair was tight, tight enough to make your scalp burn with white-hot pain. But all you could think about was his pulsing cock inside your mouth.

Your hands gripped the sides of your skirt. You wanted to touch yourself, touch _him,_ wanted to feel warm skin under your fingers, wanted, _needed_ to feel pressure, fiction, release.

You moaned more, unable to keep the sounds from escaping. The noises vibrated around his cock and with a twitch of his agonizingly hard cock, you knew he was coming close.

"I'm gonna cum, [Y/N]. I'm gonna cum all fucking over you. Keep taking my cock. _Fuck yeah, choke on it, that's right_."

He hit the back of your throat and you couldn't hold back a sputtering gag. You gasped dramatically as he pulled himself out of you at the very last second before reaching his release. With a final groan, he splashed your face with ropes of his cum. You felt each string of liquid land on your skin, warming you but making you shiver all the same.

You were both panting and gasping as Kylo came down from his high. He stood on shaking legs, still holding your face in his hands. He moved a strand of hair from your damp brow, his fingers undoubtedly trailing in his own seed as he did so. You were grateful for the gesture.

After a moment of both of you collecting your breath, he seized your elbows and pulled you to your feet before stuffing himself back in his pants and re-buckling his belt. He cupped your face in his hands. Moving your face slightly from side to side, he examined you, examined your beauty, your magnificence that was covered in his cum.

He smirked, dragging a thumb through the mess on your face. You realized now you were the one trembling. You clutched onto his shirt for strength, support, nearly losing your balance when you watched him smirk down at you.

Pride, that was what his expression wore. You'd done well; you could see it in his eyes.

After a few fleeting moments of admiration, he turned away to retrieve some Kleenex from his desk. He reached over to hand them to you before sighing, back facing you.

You wiped yourself clean, watching him, still panting. He stood stoically for a few moments before tilting his head over his shoulder to address you.

"You'll email me your contact information. Each and every way to reach you," he instructed.

You nodded. "Yes, professor," you agreed in a whisper, dabbing and wiping his seed from your cheeks and forehead and jaw.

"I'll be in touch. Regarding our next visit."

"But, sir," you argued, taking a step forward. You weren't done with him yet. Your center still ached. Your dress was agonizingly warm. You felt painfully un-fucked and desperate.

Turning around as he felt your fingers touch his back, he smirked, looking down at you. "Think of this as your first lesson in patience."


	3. Behind Closed Doors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> English literature and sex.
> 
> Your English professor- the very same one you’d been unhealthily infatuated with since the first time you’d ever seen him strutting across the quad- was giving you lessons in English literature and sex.
> 
> And apparently these things went hand-in-hand, seeing as he had made it abundantly clear that the thing you were lacking most in your academic endeavors was patience, so theoretically, the sex also translated well to your actual tutoring, or whatever he called it. It almost made sense; Kylo Ren was either completely deranged or a damn genius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not going to lie, I didn't proofread. ╮ (. ❛ ᴗ ❛.) ╭ But ENJOY nonetheless! Today, we have lots of exposition and info important to the plot of where we'll be taking this story. Sorry if all the literary theory stuff is vague. I wanted it to make sense in the context of their argument since it’s the basis of how they know each other so I tried to do the research but holy shit its so boring but I did what I could.
> 
> ALSO! If you all have empty spaces in your house, I mean no offense by the interaction at the end of the chapter (SPOILER: in which our character finds an empty room and gets the creeps.) I want to clarify that the state of your homes are your business and no indication of who you are as people! Just wanted to clarify that she gets the creeps because she realizes that he may not be who he says he is (per the mysterious envelope) AND the fact that he has so much money to decorate and furnish, and her mind gets way ahead of her and she makes an ignorant assumption because she is flawed just like all of us.  
> Rock on and enjoy the chapter!

English literature and sex.

Your English professor—the very same one you'd been unhealthily infatuated with since the first time you'd ever seen him strutting across the quad—was giving you lessons in English literature and sex.

And apparently these things went hand-in-hand, seeing as he had made it abundantly clear that the thing you were lacking most in your academic endeavors was patience, so theoretically, the sex also translated well to your actual tutoring, or whatever he called it. It almost made sense; Kylo Ren was either completely deranged or a damn genius.

Probably both? You were quite confident that he was both, but perhaps leaning a hair more towards deranged—not that it deterred you in the slightest.

You'd emailed him your cell phone number and personal email; you were connected to him through your designated school email accounts just as everyone else was, but that was _not_ a safe channel of communication for what he'd proposed to you the other night.

The other night—when you went to his office of your own volition and ended up committing a certain act that could get him fired and you expelled.

You'd given him your number so you could coordinate your next meeting. That was on Friday night. By Sunday afternoon, he had arranged for you to join him at his _house._ To your utter shock, he sent you a driver. And he'd told you to "be discreet."

Evidently this really was a concern for him, as he'd told you to meet the driver at least a few blocks from campus. He was smart to make that decision; better safe than sorry, especially given what you two were up to.

You met the driver in front of a dunkin' donuts a good walk away from campus. You were expecting an Uber, but by the looks of it, this guy looked like he was a _professional_ driver. Like a suit-and-tie chauffeur who actually got up and opened the door for you. As in, this guy _worked_ for Ren.

You held your hands silently in your lap during the ride, and desperately resisted the urge to ask about a million questions, even though your mind was racing.

The ride was just under twenty minutes, and you couldn't help but wonder if this was such a good idea. After all, Ren had sent you a driver to take you to his house, where you'd never even been before. And Kylo Ren, as it turned out, may not actually be Kylo Ren after all. The mystery of "Ben Solo" was tugging at your brain, and suddenly you found yourself actually saying a silent prayer that Kylo Ren hadn't killed this poor Ben Solo and stolen his identity.

When the driver pulled up in front of a ridiculously fancy looking brownstone in a _very_ swanky part of town, your brain went silent.

"Why've we stopped?" you asked.

"We've arrived, ma'am," he said, climbing out of his seat and opening your door, extending a gloved hand to help you out from the back seat.

No, no, no. This couldn't be it. This couldn't be where Ren _lived._ These types of homes, homes in this neighborhood in particular, had to cost over a million at the bare minimum. You knew that Ren probably made a good salary because you knew how bougie your college was; in fact, you were _painfully_ aware of that seeing as your status as a scholarship kid reminded you every goddamned day. But this was even above that. Where the hell did he get the money for a place like this? And for a personal driver?

You found your legs were shaky as you climbed the steps of the brownstone. You took a deep breath, praying briefly for god to just smite you down before you had to walk into that fucking house. He didn't, so you rang the doorbell.

You heard a gruff "just a minute," and then heavy footsteps. God, you couldn't even see him, and you could tell he was just as imposing as ever. After a few moments of what you were sure was him walking across his incredibly expansive home, Kylo Ren reached the door.

He opened it, eyes falling on you, and then opened it wider, taking a step back and gesturing for you to come in without giving you a word of greeting.

You stepped into a marvelously daunting foyer. The floor was checkered with elegant black and white tile which, after a good few yards, gave way to a winding mahogany staircase leading upwards.

Standing in his uncomfortably elegant grand foyer, you couldn't have felt more out of place as you held up a greasy, paper dunkin' donuts bag. "Brought you a bacon wake-up wrap."

He blinked. Was he surprised? You could never tell with him, he was so impossible to read. He blinked again and then to your pleasant surprise, said "Thanks."

"Of course, if you have private chefs too, I get it. Won't be offended. I just didn't realized you..." your voice trailed off as you looked at the ceiling, turning around slowly in a circle to take in the expensive looking artwork on the walls and the chandelier above you, "were living like a freaking rock star," you breathed.

He gave you a flat look before turning on his heel and beckoning you to follow with two fingers. He headed up the stairs and wordlessly, you followed.

"I thought we'd work in the living room." _What kind of sociopath had a living room on the second floor?_ "The study's packed, but there's plenty of space up here. Use it however you like."

You shrugged. To be honest, you worked best when you were sprawled out on the floor and had every paper you needed spread out around you and visible. Chairs and desks were too confining.

At the top of the steps was a living space. It was open and spacious, filled with elegant and modern furnishings: a couple of royal blue couches, a marble coffee table, armchairs that were simple yet sleek and likely cost upwards of a few hundred bucks, and that was being modest.

"Feel free to work at the table."

"I'm good," you said, slinging your backpack off in the middle of the room. You didn't sit down, however; you opted to hold onto his gaze, hoping he noticed the length of your skirt—or lack thereof. You thought for a wistful moment, back to Friday night. How it felt when his firm hand found your shoulder and urged you down, pulled your hair and guided you to his-

You cleared your throat, narrowing your eyes at him. He said nothing, gave you absolutely no hint of what the afternoon had in store for you. You wondered, in the darkest part of your mind, what _Kylo Ren_ had planned for you today...

The answer was studying.

Lots and lots of studying.

You groaned and threw your head back as soon as you heard the words, "Let's start with the essay you never turned into me." And _not_ in the good way.

You came in half-expecting him to bend you over a table again, but after an hour and a half, you were still sprawled on the floor, your legs out to the side and your laptop and notes in front of you. He spent the droning, endless minutes pacing behind you, asking you if you'd remembered to consider and include such and such, and then snickering when you sighed in defeat, realizing that you'd _completely_ forgot about such and such, and honestly didn't really _care_ about such and such because you _hated deconstructionism._ Something about it just put you to sleep.

But for the most part, Kylo sat behind you, flipping through a book on philosophy and remaining a resource for your few questions.

But before you hit the two-hour mark, and after too many "wrong's" voiced from Kylo behind you, you tore off your blue-light glasses and tossed them to the side.

"I need a fucking break," you huffed, standing up.

"You haven't finished," he said, closing his book and looking up at you. God, he looked _sexy_ just lounging like that: legs parted, one arm slung over the side of the couch, body smelling like clean linen and old books. "This paper was due two weeks ago."

"I've been working for two hours!" you argued.

"Not quite," he said, glancing down at his watch.

"Okay, well, maybe I don't care because this whole thing is _stupid._ You cant just sit behind me and say 'wrong,'" you imitated his deep voice for emphasis, prompting a scoff from Kylo, "every time I try to complete a thought and not give me a _single reason_ to give a fuck about deconstructionism."

He looked at you as if you'd just insulted his mother. "Why should I have to give you a reason? If you'd done the reading, you would have figured out why you should 'give a fuck about deconstructionism.'"

"Well I _couldn't finish_ the reading because it _put me to sleep!"_ you admitted without a shred of apology. "Forgive me if I think that imagery and allusion and, and _other literary elements,"_ you stuttered "give a text _meaning._ This is fucking stupid. I can't fathom how you expect me to get through a single article about this crap."

"I _don't_ expect you to get through a single article about this crap, because I'm starting to doubt that you have the _capacity for patience,"_ he argued, raising his voice and standing to his feet. "You love analyzing texts. You love picking apart allusion and imagery to find meaning. I've seen it in your damn papers! The fact that you _don't like deconstructionism_ is a _baffling_ indicator of how _fucking obtuse_ and _simple-minded_ you can be." He leaned down, picking up an article thumping the paper with the back of his hand. "If you had done the reading, you would have seen that deconstruction is all about rejecting the binary. Finding meaning _beyond_ what you learned in your freshmen poetry class," he sneered.

Okay, so you may have misunderstood deconstructionism.

He breathed heavily. You were both clearly peeved with each other, cranky and testy after nearly two hours of frustrating work. You stood there at odds with each other, watching one another closely. He was about to pounce on you when you sighed, defeated.

"I'm sorry. I struggled with this topic. It's just...it's boring on the surface. I get distracted or frustrated that I'm not understanding it, and then I give up. I guess I just don't have a capacity for patience," you said.

A smirk tugged on the edge of his lips. "That's why you're here, isn't it?"

Another two hours later, you'd burned through two cups coffee, an article on deconstructionism and you _actually read the whole thing!_ And shockingly, your paper was done. You didn't remember falling asleep at the living room bar (yes, he had a fucking bar in his living room,) but the next thing you knew was his hand pressing on your back.

His lips were close to you, his voice plain and all-consuming in your ears. "I think it's time you go home," he said gently.

 _Interesting._ You furrowed your brow, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. When you turned to look at him, he was heading downstairs. You longed for his touch. It was gentle, almost unrecognizable, and then just as you shook yourself from your sleep, it was gone. Almost as if it'd been a dream.

"Pack up your stuff," he said. "Phone's downstairs; I'll give my driver a call."

As he descended to the lower level, you looked out the window. It was nightfall already. You looked around the room, taking it in once more. Now that you weren't stressed about your paper and hopelessly wracking your brain, you noticed how cozy and lovely it was.

But there wasn't a single picture frame, not an old ice-sweat stain on the coffee table, not a mess that he hadn't cleaned up yet. The place was spotless, but as if it hadn't even been lived in.

You stood slowly, unable to keep yourself from peering up the staircase off the living room that lead to the next floor. It was such a beautiful house. So elegant and luxurious, yet devoid of any memorabilia or homeliness.

Not truly thinking about you were doing, you took a timid step up the stairs. Then another. And then, you were walking without considering the consequences or the breach of privacy you were committing, peering into the darkness of the empty hallway, lined with doors on either side, the words " _Ben Solo"_ echoing in the back parts of your brain.

Slowly, you reached out to one of the doors, fingers landing gingerly on the cold doorknob. Silently, you turned, and then pushed. The hinges whispered a scream as you slowly pushed open the door.

Emptiness.

The room you found yourself standing in was completely empty.

It was a charming room, or it would have been, if it was lived in. The windows spanned nearly the whole length of the wall. There was a closed-off marble fireplace that made for an absolutely beautiful mantle, a crystal chandelier, soft gray walls and beautiful hardwood floors. It was a rather small room that didn't seem to connect to a bathroom; it would be perfect for a child's room. The thought tugged at your heart, but a noise from behind you ripped all ideas out of your mind and smashed them against the wall.

Kylo Ren cleared his throat. You gasped and spun around, bracing yourself for whatever mess you'd gotten yourself into.

"Andrew's on his way," he said flatly, all but glaring at you. His eyes were steely-cold, his entire body tensed. Your eyes flickered down and noticed that his hands were practically balled into fists.

"I'm sorry," you sputtered before you could help yourself. "It's just...it's such a beautiful house, I just wanted to... I won't- I'm not- I don't think it's weird or anything, that it's empty. I swear," you stammered, your foot _fully_ in your mouth at this point. You cursed yourself, _trying_ to explain. "I just wanted to...I should have asked. I'm sorry."

Kylo Ren struck you as just about the most private person on the face of the planet. And yet here you found himself, snooping around his home without permission, standing in a suspiciously empty room. But why _was_ it empty? And why was the house so devoid of personality? Suddenly, you found yourself wondering how long he'd been working at the college. For all you knew, he was a serial killer. And incredibly wealthy serial killer who had to be ready to abandon his place of residence at a moment's notice.

"What are you doing sneaking around my house?"

_Who is Ben Solo?_

"I'm not sneaking!" you insisted. "I just...I wanted-"

"Were you trying to find my bedroom?"

"What? _No_!" you squeaked.

"What exactly _were_ you trying to find?"

You blinked. "Kylo, I wasn't trying to find _anything,"_ you told him. "I'm sorry. I just wanted to see what the rest of this place looked like."

His jaw set. "But you're wondering why it's empty?" He didn't phrase it like a question.

You swallowed thickly, your face giving away your fears. Not that you thought he was a serial killer: you _knew_ that was overkill and fucking stupid. But it was...weird, wasn't it? Someone as obviously wealthy as him, someone who was going by a name that wasn't his own, who could afford to convert his spaces into whatever he wanted...why would his home be so unfeeling?

And to find a room completely empty...it didn't sit right with you, not given the circumstances.

"And you're being secretive." The words fell out and lay before him before you even realize you'd said them.

It was maybe the heaviest silence you'd even felt. The weight of your words hung thick in the air and you wished more than anything that you could take them back.

He eyed you before speaking. His gaze made your blood feel like ice. "I inherited this house from my father when he died," he said.

You took a breath. "I'm-I'm sorry."

"My mother was born into money. She and my father lived out of state, but he's originally from here, in Boston. When he died, I thought maybe she'd move back here to be closer to me." He looked away, jaw tensing. "But my mother and I...we haven't been in contact with each other in a long time. Not like a mother and son should. She didn't come, but sent me a letter that the house would pass along to me. I was living in an apartment at the time. It was nice. Perfectly adequate for my needs. But I didn't want the house to go to someone outside of the family. So I took it."

"O-oh," you muttered in a small voice, furrowing your brow, feeling a twinge in your heart for his suffering but not fully understanding why he was telling you this.

He lifted his gaze, eyes meeting yours with the same coldness that was there before he started talking to you. "It has six bedrooms."

You blinked. "I'm sorry?"

"This house. It has six bedrooms," he tilted his head. "Forgive me, but I'm not an interior decorator, and I don't have the time nor the patience to furnish several empty rooms when my job barely allows me to be home at all."

_Shit._

You felt like an idiot. You felt invasive and dirty, and honestly, sort of psychotic. What the hell you were thinking, picking the most fiercely private and mysterious individuals you knew to sneak around their house behind closed doors?

You felt heat rising to your cheeks as he stood in the doorway. You felt embarrassment roiling in your stomach and shame settling deep in your chest.

_Way to really fucking humiliate yourself._

"I'm sorry," you said again. What else did he except you to say? And how many times did he expect you to say it? "Honestly," you said, shaking your head and exhaling, "I've never even stepped foot in a place like this. My house is, like, a fraction this size. I go to school on a scholarship that cuts my tuition in half. And even then, I'm gonna be in debt for the rest of my life. I know it was a dick move, and I'm sorry, but I don't think you know how insane this place is to someone like me."

You held his gaze, heart beating fast, hoping he believed your words, but feeling guilty at pulling the sob-story card. Sure, everything what you said was true; you didn't come from money like he did, and your friends and you always joked about how you'd never be able to afford a place like _this_. But a part of you, a dark part of you, was suspicious of him, of his secrecy and mysteriousness.

He sighed, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorway.

"Come here," he said, after a pause of pondering your intrusion and beckoning you begrudgingly towards him. "Let me show you the rest of it."

You grinned, nodded, and followed him out of the room and down the hall.

You'd never seen a home laid out like this before. He mentioned the first floor was made up mainly by the foyer and recreation room. The second floor housed the living room, kitchen, and dining room. The third floor, where Kylo had caught you, had one empty bedroom and one room that he'd converted into a study. He opened up the door to show you. It was meticulously organized, which you scoffed at, considering that earlier, he'd said it had been a mess.

A mess for his standards, you supposed.

"What's down there?" You asked, gesturing to the other end of the hall.

He led you to the other end, opening the door. "Master bed."

You looked at him for permission, and when he nodded, you poked your head through the opening of the door.

It was absolutely magnificent, and absolutely _massive._ It kept the elegant, nearly rococo style that had been built into the house, that you didn't think matched with Kylo's personality. Despite the gold mirror and crystal chandelier and painted trimmings on the wall, he'd modernized the furnishings.

His bed was over twice the size of yours. As you looked around his living space, you tried not to feel jealous.

"It's really nice," you told him.

He looked into the room as if he was trying to see what you saw. But you didn't get the impression that he didn't feel grateful for the beautiful things he had.

You got the impression that he just didn't feel like it was _home._

"It's more than I deserve," he admitted, before stepping away and continuing up the stairs. "There's one more thing you should see."

You followed Ren to a door at the top of the stairs. When he opened it, you felt the cool, Boston night air wisp against your skin. You grinned, following him onto his very own private rooftop terrace, tasting the fresh air and walking to the fence, eyes falling on the skyline of other beautiful brownstones.

He came to stand beside you, silently watching you explore his world.

"Is there anything you don't have?" you asked breathlessly.

You heard him laugh from beside you, softly. Sadly. He didn't answer.

You turned to him. "Thank you for showing me. You have an incredible home."

"Thank you," he muttered, eyes flickering down to your lips.

You thought you'd kiss. You thought he'd pull you roughly against him and you could snuggle into his chest. But he didn't. The next thing you knew, he was walking you to his car, arms at his side. But as you climbed into the back seat, thanking him for his generosity, you felt his hand on your lower back, just for a moment.

And as you rode away back to campus, you furrowed your brow, watching him shrink in the rearview mirror, staring after you as you left.

So studying was the only thing in the cards today...was there anything wrong with that? Did he not want you anymore? What kind of potential did he actually see in you, and what were his true intentions for tutoring you privately?

You leaned your head against the window and watched the stars.

You felt ashamed for being suspicious of him. For looking around his home without his permission as a result of your skepticism, even if he forgave you. You felt worse that you'd lied about _not_ being slightly suspicious of him. Because even though he'd opened up to you, explained why he lived life a little differently, the tugging at the back of your mind was still there.

It was stronger.

Something _still_ didn't sit right.

When you got back to your dorm, you slung your jacket over the couch in the living room and continued to your bedroom. Being curious wasn't doing you any good, and it had nearly gotten you into trouble today. Time to put it to rest.

Opening your laptop, even though you felt creepy continuing to dig, you pushed through the dirty feeling.

"Fuck it," you muttered to yourself, opening Google.

And then your fingers were typing, and you were chewing on your lip.

"Who is Ben Solo"

_Search._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kylo's home inspired by:  
> https://i.pinimg.com/originals/d8/cf/11/d8cf110c3e09012ea05e6902bf245a0c.jpg
> 
> The house has this kind of structural integrity:  
> https://static.trulia-cdn.com/pictures/thumbs_6/zillowstatic/IS7u6zwonmj5fn1000000000.webp
> 
> But Kylo's bedroom would be furnished like:  
> https://interiorzine.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/10/mens-luxury-bedroom-ideas.jpg  
> But without the velvet :)


	4. I Don't Believe in Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He sighed and sank into the kiss, giving in for a fleeting moment before catching himself and slowly pulling away.
> 
> He didn’t meet your gaze when he spoke. “No. That’s not what this is.” I’m not allowed to kiss him, you thought. “Only before.” He said. “Maybe during. Never after.”
> 
> You dropped your gaze and silently hoped he couldn’t see the heat rising to your face, nor the tears to your eyes. You were trying to help. Why did he even ask you here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR 100 KUDOS!!!!!! Wowowow I didn't think this would happen so quickly but thank you all for reading and I truly hope you continue to enjoy!
> 
> I gotta give you a head's up: this week is an angsty one, guys! But I promise all will be well very soon. Remember that this is a slow burn, so things are actually going to get better soon. And then very very bad for a while. And then better again. And so on and so forth....

  
Kylo remembered walking back towards his office from the conference room after his meeting with Dean Hux. He remembered rounding the corner. He remembered feeling himself shaking uncontrollably, how his clenched fists rattled at his sides inexplicably, so forcefully that for a moment, he wondered if they were experiencing an earthquake before realizing, _he_ was the one shaking, so hard he couldn't stop; it was _him,_ all him.

He remembered the other professors hustling past him in the opposite direction, remembered someone brushing against his shoulder, someone else telling him to have a good evening but the words ringing, almost indiscernibly, in his ears. It was 5 PM and all the professors were heading out for the night; Hux had at least done him _that_ favor, though even that much surprised Kylo. One would think Hux would have made every effort, come to think of it, to place this meeting during the busiest of office hours of the day so everyone could see young and accomplished department head Kylo Ren absolutely lose his fucking mind.

His schedule must have been full.

The second Kylo's office door closed behind him, everything went black. He remembered nothing, and when he came to, two shards of glass were sticking out of his knuckle, and his doctoral certificate lay facedown at his feet, more glass scattered around his Wolf & Shepherd dress shoes.

A knock on the door pulled him from his fury-fueled black out. Professor Kanata stuck her head through the door. Without so much as a flinch, Kylo hid his bleeding hand behind his side, expression blank and unchanging.

"Everything ok in here, Kylo?"

"Yeah," he responded emotionlessly. "Frame fell down for some reason. Have a good night, Maz."

She nodded, smiled sympathetically, but made no question, taking her leave.

He stared at the blank spot in the wall where his certificate had hung, fuming at the irony of the entire situation.

Straight out of school, Kylo had accepted the position of English professor at the University. He was more than intelligent, more than capable. He didn't have the experience, sure, and was just as shocked as anyone else when they offered the department head position to a 28-year-old. But the previous chair was perfectly impressed with Kylo's proficiencies, and none of the other professors felt they could balance the role with their schedules, or weren't deemed to be able to by the higher-ups.

Kylo had just been in the right place at the right time. It felt too good to be true, and understandably, he'd be on probation for the first year at the very least.

And that was where Armitage Fucking Hux came in.

So _there_ was the fucking catch. Hux had it in for Kylo ever since Kylo he completing his undergrad while Hux was working at his master's. Now, Hux was the fucking Dean of the entire school; how he'd managed that was beyond Kylo. But Kylo was five years Hux's junior and even as an undergrad, had stolen the attention and affection of the literary professors. So much so that Hux, dejected and _furious,_ went the philosophy route instead.

And now, years later, he was making Kylo pay the fucking price.

It was time for his one-year performance review, handled by none other than the Dean. It was the perfect opportunity to make Kylo look bad for personal reasons. What had he even said in the meeting? Kylo was so furious he couldn't even think straight, let alone remember whatever bullshit had strung from Hux's mouth. Something about his personal struggles interfering with his work, his inability to connect with his students, his attitude--too intimidating to make his students feel able to approach him for help.

It was all complete _bullshit._ Kylo had never once received a complaint. Hux was probably just taking harmless gossip and spinning it out of control. Even with seven notable publications with major presses under his belt at 29, Hux was still trying to overthrow his position.

It was complete and utter inane _horseshit._

It wasn't like he didn't have offers. _Better_ offers. In his fury, he pondered the possibility as seriously as he could. He had a job offer from a local press. They'd wanted him as editorial director for _weeks._ How would Hux like that? If he pushed Kylo out of his current position into a better one?

Before he could think, Kylo reached for his phone. He began typing , blood smearing on the screen. " _Shit,"_ he hissed, furiously trying to wipe it away. Nothing like a small irritant to make you realize how close you are to fucking _snapping_.

"My office stat" was all he could manage with such shaky, blood-wet fingers. He plucked the glass from his knuckle, grunting through gritted teeth and tossing the pieces into the trash can. And with one last sweep of the English hall to make sure he was the only one left in the building, or at least on the floor, he felt comfortable enough to commence treating his office like his personal punching bag.

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

Before you'd even rounded the hall towards Ren's office, you heard something hard and heavy hit the door. A book, maybe? Your brows furrowed and you rushed to his office, letting yourself in, finding him breathing heavily, slightly hunched over, as if he'd just thrown something with great force. And by the state of his office and the noise you'd heard moments before, it appeared that he had. Repeatedly.

You closed the door behind you, staring agape at your surroundings. "What the hell is going on here? Are you _bleeding?_ "

The look Kylo gave you was fierce. Formidable. His body seemed to shake with anger as his eyes seized your gaze. Within seconds, he was on you.

Reaching to cup your cheeks, he shoved your back against the door, lips absolutely _attacking_ yours. He panted heavily into your mouth as you gasp against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck. He kissed you angrily. _Furiously._ As if you were the only thing keeping him from burning his office to the ground.

His hands went to work, tearing your denim jacket and throwing it to the floor as hard as he could. "Get. These. _Off,"_ he growled, lips barely leaving yours as his hands moved to rapidly unbuckle his belt.

You complied without arguing, not because you felt like you had to do what he said, but because he could _feel_ how much he needed someone. Whatever was going on, you could feel the loneliness and despair and _fury_ rolling off of him in waves.

You unbuttoned your own jeans and shoved them down your thighs, stepping out of them as you tore your blouse above your head. He treated your bra like he'd treated your jacket, ripping it off you like it was his greatest enemy. With considerable strength, he flung it aside. It caught on his desk-lamp, toppling it over as it flew across the room, the pile shattering to the ground.

His hands found your hips. He gripped you _hard,_ lips pushing back against yours. His hands flew to your thighs, lifting you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. Nothing separated you except for your thong. Taking a minute to forget about how messed up he was at the moment, you thought about your closeness, your proximity, and your breath caught in your throat.

And then, surprising even himself, Kylo lifted his lips from yours, leaning back to stare earnestly into your eyes.

"What would you do if you had an opportunity," he began, panting, breath falling against your lips, "An opportunity to be better. To be bigger. To be everything everyone thought you could ever be and more?"

You furrowed your brow. "What the hell are you talking about?" you whispered, not waiting for an answer as your hand went to his cheek and moved to pull him back in.

He stopped you. "No, I'm saying, what if something was holding you back, and you had the chance to really become the best version of yourself, but you had to make some sacrifices?"

"What kind of sacrifices?"

He pondered for a moment. "Small bouts of happiness. Maybe more distractions," he eyed you knowingly.

You didn't notice.

"Isn't happiness more important than anything else?"

"Not if you think you could be happier somewhere else."

You pondered for a moment, not knowing what the hell he was talking about, but speaking on instinct. "Then fuck it. Stick it to the man. Show them what you're made of. If you think you can be great, then you shouldn't let anyone stop you. As long as the personal cost isn't too great."

"No cost is too great. Not to me."

You nodded, looking into his eyes, trying to understand, and failing. "Okay. Then fuck it. Shoot for greatness. Shoot for everything." It was what you believed Ren would say to you if the tables were turned.

He took in your face, just a brief, fleeting moment. He took in your features, the soft expansiveness of your eyes, the plump line of your kiss-swollen lips, your bare, goosebumps-ridden skin, your heaving chest. And within seconds, his lips were on you again, and you felt him shove your panties aside and push his rock-hard length into you.

He grunted as he stood fully seated in your pussy, his breath shuddering against the crook of your neck.

You gasped at the intrusion, suddenly feeling the pressure of his size in your lower belly. His hands supported you at your waist and he began to work his hips, his thrusts slapping against you. Open-mouthed, his lips worked at your neck, hot exhales falling against your skin.

You felt your legs tighten around him as he fucked you into silence against the door; it was only just after 5, and you found yourself silently praying that you were truly alone.

But as your pleasure mounted, you found the less you cared. You heard Kylo grunt and the noise alone was pure bliss that sent shockwaves through your clit.

His head moved lower, lips working at your breasts. He grunted as he tongued your nipple, taking the bud into his mouth and licking lazily.

The added sensation was too much for you to keep up with.

"Kylo," you whispered, clutching him around the neck, trailing your fingers through his flawless, dark waves.

"Cum on my cock," he moaned, lips kissing up your chest. "Want to feel you cum on my fat cock and hear you scream my fucking name."

"Kylo," you mewled, "what if there are still people here?"

"I don't give a fuck," he growled, slamming into you, his pace now brutal and ruthless.

You opened your mouth to moan as you felt the familiar tingles indicating the nearness of your climax. Unable to stop yourself and unable to care any longer, you opened your mouth and cried out, nearly screaming as he fucked you through your orgasm.

"Kylo! _Fuck! Yes!" iy_ ou cried, words followed by a shattering moan.

Kylo followed quickly behind you, emptying himself into your clenching pussy and grunting fiercely as he thrusted through his ecstasy.

"Fuck, _FUCK!"_ He roared, the sounds of your whimpering " _yes, yes, yes, yes, yes's_ " bringing him back down to reality. His eyes fell back on you as he regained his clarity. You looked nearly unconscious, blacked-out by pleasure, eyes fluttered shut and expression skewed from the overwhelming pleasure.

He stared at you as you came down from your body-crushing high. He watched your parted lips as you panted. He watched the naked frame of your back pressed against the door and your heaving chest. He watched you until your eyes finally fluttered open. And you caught him. Caught him staring. He looked gentle, in that moment. Peaceful, just watching you. It made your heart flip in your chest.

You didn't know what he'd gone through. You didn't know where all of this came from. You could only try to understand, and try to assure yourself that it was clear why he had wanted you here with him. That _you_ were the only person who could make it all disappear.

He set you down but didn't let you go. Your lungs filled with air, greedy for oxygen. You checked in briefly with your body; you were lightheaded and felt like you could topple over. You kept breathing, trying to steady your legs, grateful that he was supporting your quivering body with strong, steady hands. He pressed his forehead to yours, holding you close while you caught your breath and gathered yourself, adjusting to the feeling of jello-like legs and waiting for the sensation to pass.

He was so close, felt so warm, holding you like he cherished you. His touch was _gentle_. You almost didn't recognize it.

Without thinking, you leaned up. Gently, your lips landed against his. It was soft. You treated him gently, almost as if you scared the kiss would disappear.

And then it did.

He sighed and sank against you, giving in for a fleeting moment before catching himself and slowly pulling himself away.

He didn't meet your gaze when he spoke. "No. That's not what this is." _I'm not allowed to kiss him,_ you thought. "Only before," he said. "Maybe during. Never after."

You dropped your gaze and silently hoped he couldn't see the heat rising to your face, nor the tears to your eyes. _I'm trying to help. Why did he even ask me here?_ You found yourself asking internally.

But the moment the question surfaced in your head was the moment the answer became clear. The answer lied in the sound of him re-buckling his belt, in the feeling of his spend beginning to roll down your legs, in the piles of scattered clothes around the office. Suddenly feeling something akin to a small heartbreak, you slipped from your place against the door, covering your exposed chest with your arm as you briskly searched for your clothes and yanked them back on.

You didn't say a word before leaving the room.

Neither did he.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WHAT DO WE THINK PEOPLE??? Would we like to see this fic take Kylo and our protagonist to other fun places to get in some new, fun, sticky situations? Or shall we keep this strictly a professor/student fic? I’m honestly torn! I think I would like to see them stay at the university together for a while but eventually part ways…..and then of course be thrown together by fate once again ;) BUT LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!!!! I need to know what direction to take this to complete later chapters so your feedback is much appreciated. LOVE YOU ALL and see you in a few days for the next update...in which our heroine finally lets loose and has some fun for herself!


	5. Speakeasies and Asphalt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your mom wasn’t around as much as you wanted. But if you’d just waited a couple of years to figure out that everyone has it hard when they’re a kid and that things get better…” your voice trailed off. And furiously, you searched for the words. “You’re a selfish kid from a rich family whose parents weren’t around for your stupid middle school band concerts because they were off making the world a better place.” 
> 
> “What are you talking about?” He sputtered, the confusion and concern now plain on his face. 
> 
> “You’re Ben Solo.” You spat. Before, you weren’t sure. But just as the words left your lips, you knew it to be true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hellooooo readers!
> 
> This chapter contains the subject of absent parents—just a warning for any of you who may not want to read that kind of content! I just want to clarify if this is a sensitive subject to some, please remember that Y/N’s opinion on the matter is uninformed and her knowledge of the full story incomplete. So please remember that any insensitivities are due to our character having flaws and not always coming to the best or even right judgement. All the love to all of you out there <3
> 
> We’ve got some rom-com bullshit in the words, today, people. Hope you like cheese.

In a word: unwell. You were faring unwell since your last conversation with Ren just a day before—if you could call it a conversation. You'd spent Friday night and Saturday afternoon in bed, cuddled up in your blankets, watching Netflix with your laptop on your chest and your headphones in, icing out your roommate Rose.

You didn't mean to push her away. You didn't _want_ to. But you could hardly tell her about what was going on with you. Why you were such a complete wreck. And as much as you wanted to unload on Rose, that would mean Ren's termination.

You had caught feelings for the professor you never should have been sleeping with in the first place, the man who hadn't told you that whatever was going on between you was to remain devoid of feelings because he didn't have to. He said it with the iciness in his gaze when he looked at you. He said it in the way he'd curtly text you when he needed you, and the way he immediately forced you away when he'd had what he wanted.

But then there were the other moments. Like the time when he'd taken you up to his rooftop terrace and watched you gaze at the stars. The moment when he'd actually told you about his parents and his strained, unhappy relationship with them. And then there were the rare and fleeting moments when his touch was gentle and sent electric shock-waves through your skin that were so strong, you could feel the echo of them even as you laid in bed, sadly watching Netflix days later. These were the moments that had made you think that maybe it wasn't so cut-and-dry. That maybe he didn't know how to connect with someone, but maybe he _wanted_ to. Wanted to try.

You were wrong.

You turned to the wall, tears prickling at your eyes. You didn't know how you could have been so careless. And now, you were paying the price. You had been rejected and hadn't tried to text him. He hadn't texted you either. By the way you'd reacted to him the other evening, it was clear that the two of you just weren't seeing eye-to-eye. It was clear that you and him just didn't work.

Chewing on your lower lip, you minimized the Netflix tab and pulled up the article you'd found the other day. You still hadn't closed out of it. It was 10 years old, written in 2009, but perhaps the more dated it was, the better in terms of actually giving you any understanding into his life. You'd read it a hundred times, but decided to read it again, praying it would give you some kind of insight into him.

**What Ever Happened to Problem Child of Leia Organa-Solo and Husband Han?**

Leia Organa-Solo--you know her as the philanthropist who created The Resistance, the growing anti-war nonprofit organization. Power couple Leia and Han have allegedly bid their young son, Ben, farewell, a source tells us.

"The Solos have always been diligent in keeping Ben out of the spotlight. They spent as much time with him as they could but things would come up, you know, they'd have to jet off to some war-torn front and the kid would always insist on coming, but when it wasn't safe, they'd have to send him away. He never took that well. He's off on his own now, which is sad. They're good parents. He was a problem-child, if you ask me, always looking for a reason to hate his folks for having their own lives."

The source, as we're told, is a friend to the family with ties to the organization. As Organa-Solo prepares for her departure for a relief-mission at the end of this month, supporters worry that the dwindling health of her husband will distract her from bringing the aid the country-in-question needs. Updates to follow.

Whoever the source was, he was right about one thing: few pictures of Ben Solo existed on the face of the internet, not that the Organa-Solos were prime paparazzi prey. You found one photo of a young boy squatting on the ground, hunched over some sort of archaeological find in a desert-looking area. He was smiling. His dark hair was waving in the wind and his eye crinkled at the corner. But the picture was taken from the side and he wore a floppy, over-sized fisherman's hat, and a profile shot couldn't convince you if it was _him_ or not.

Still, your heart ached for whoever the boy was. It couldn't have been easy not being able to follow your parents to some of the more dangerous places that their work took them. If it were you, you supposed you would have felt angry, maybe even abandoned. But at the same time, the work that Leia and Han were doing was important. It was difficult situation and the fault didn't lie with anyone, and if it left open wounds, then it would have been essential for family to help heal them together.

It seemed that with whoever Ben Solo was, that never happened.

You stared at the picture of the boy, the boy who may or may not have turned out to be Kylo Ren, and you silently wished that he could have just held on a little longer, could have stayed patient and trusted that his parents were gone for a good reason, and that they'd come back for him.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Rose yanking your door open so forcefully it made you jump and slam your laptop shut.

"What the hell?" you asked her.

"You're right. What the hell?" she spat, throwing down her backpack and placing her hands on her hips. "You've been moping in here for 24 hours straight, and you won't talk to me. What's going on?"

You rolled onto your elbow and rubbed at your face. "It's just some guy I caught feelings for. I don't want to talk about it."

Her body softened, and she finally looked at you with something that wasn't annoyance and anger; the _last_ thing you needed from your best friend at the moment, though you understood where she was coming from. When you were upset, you turned into quite the ice-cold bitch. "I figured," she sighed and plopped down on your bed. "Are you sure you don't want to talk about it? You know you can."

"I _know_ I can, but I genuinely don't want to. It's not _you,_ it's just that I never should have caught feelings in the first place, and instead of talking about it, I think I just need to forget it and move on. Talking about him only gives more power over me."

Suddenly, Rose was smiling from ear to ear. "Well, I'm so glad you said that, because I just ran into Poe."

"I'm not really feeling up for a dirty house party tonight." 

"Good. Neither am I. You know how his family is, like, kind of rich?"

Poe came from _some_ money, though nothing like Ren. That being said, his talent and success in life was mostly earned all on his own. Sure, privilege always helped—there was no doubt about it. But instead of skating by in life, which he could have done, he was pursuing an undergrad degree in aviation studies and working on his flight certification on the side.

"So there's this bar in the nicer part of town. It's this super exclusive, rich-people place that not a ton of students go to. Poe's family has a membership to it, so we figured why not pretend to be fancy people for the night? There's this cool speakeasy underneath it too, which we probably won't go to because that's for boring old people, but still. We could go get fancy drinks and schmooze with the elite. Come on, it'll be fun!" she told you, practically bouncing up and down on the bed.

It took some convincing but within the hour, she had you dressed in a skimpy dress you'd bought for a "special occasion" but had never worn. It was blue, sparkly, short, and low cut. It was certainly upscale-club appropriate. You had pictured your night being the same as last night: lonely and isolating and covered in cheese-ball crumbs. But before you knew it, you were in Poe's car with Finn and Rose, driving to the nightlife strip not far from where Ren lived.

Poe had to show the doorman a pass to get you all in. He ushered you all in with a huge grin, and when you stepped inside, heard the music, and saw all the well-dressed people clinking their martinis and cocktails together, you finally started to feel a bit at ease.

"I'll grab the first round." Finn said. "What are we all having?"

He took orders, and then went off to the bar, accompanied by Rose, leaving you and Poe standing at a high-top table together.

"So," he said, after you'd shared a few moments of small talk. "Rose said you're in a rough patch lately."

You shook your head, and then shrugged, propping yourself on the table by your forearms. "It's nothing that really matters. I just need to get over it. And I will, trust me," you tended to fall quickly and aggressively, so it was no shock that you were in such a state over a man who clearly didn't care for you one way or the other.

"Look," he said, eyes flickering up to meet yours. "You have a lot going for you. Whoever he is, he's not worth your tears."

The words took you by surprise. You stared at him for a moment, and then realized that he was right. Instead of speaking, you gave him a resolved, appreciative smile, one that he returned.

"Whooo's ready to party?" Rose asked, setting down a vodka lemonade in front of you. Finn handed Poe some fancy-looking cocktail you didn't recognize, and they clinked their glasses together.

"To best friends," Poe said, raising his glass.

"To best friends!" you all echoed.

Within a half hour, drinks were empty, and Poe had left and returned with tequila shots. Five minutes after that, you all found yourselves on the dance floor. A few songs in, all of you were sweating. You'd found yourself dancing with a strapping stranger in a suit who was undeniably attractive but kissed with _way_ too much tongue. Still, you indulged him, before Rose interrupted.

"[Y/N], what are you- oh my, you have a tongue down your throat. Hey, I'm gonna go get another drink, you in?"

You pulled away from the stranger, giving him a dashing smile and his arm a pat before taking Rose's hand and letting her pull you away to the bar.

As she ordered you both drinks, you looked back to the crowd. Your mouth dropped open, and you swatted her arm. "Look at Finn and Poe," you giggled into her ear.

The pair was dancing together, Poe's arm wrapped behind Finn's waist, Finn's arms slung behind the other man's neck. They smiled and eye-fucked each other so hard you could see it from across the room.

"Oh my God, I _knew it!"_ she hissed in delight.

"Do you really think-"

"Of _course_ I think!" she squealed. "Here." She slid you another shot. You clinked your glasses and threw them back, the liquor burning in your throat.

"I'm running to the bathroom," she said. "Wait for me here."

Rose trotted away, and you stood at the bar awkwardly. Before she'd been gone for long, however, another stranger had bought you a whisky. Your dress was _really_ doing you favors tonight. You'd already had enough but in the moment, that didn't matter. You slung it back and let it burn on the way down, this time, warming your stomach a little too much. _Now,_ you'd had enough. You needed to slow down.

When Rose was back, you asked her where the bathroom was. She pointed you in the general direction, and you headed that way. There was a stumble in your step. Fuck, if you could just pee and maybe sit down for a few minutes, surely you'd be fine. On faltering feet, you headed to the back of the room, finding yourself at a dead end and hallways branching on either side of you. A floor-length painting hung directly in front of you, depicting half-naked woman lounging on a chaise. The room was spinning, and you didn't know where to go. Fuck, you were so dizzy and delirious, for a moment, you thought you'd need held finding the bathroom just like a fucking child.

Just as you were looking down the left hallway and then to the right in search of the lady's room, the painting in front of you suddenly opened up like a door. For a moment, you were trying to remember how much you'd had to drink, and wracking your mind trying to figure out if you'd taken any drugs you'd forgotten about; some of the clientele undoubtedly had access to some and if you'd ever been tempted to try them, it was now. But then you'd remembered what Rose had said about the bar; there was a speakeasy beneath it.

The panic dissipated; this must have been the entrance to it. You sighed in relief, realizing you _weren't_ going crazy.

The panic came back tenfold when you realized who was coming out of the entryway.

It was Kylo Ren. With a woman on his arm.

Your breath caught in your throat. He was looking down and smiling; clearly they were engaged in some stupid, delightful conversation. But when he lifted his head and saw you, his smile dropped, and his eyes went wide.

You looked at him, then at her, and then back to him. You took a step back. Suddenly, all the alcohol in your stomach, along with the added horror and fury, roiled in your gut. You felt your stomach spasm and your throat open.

You were going to be sick. _Now._

You shot him one final, hurt, _betrayed_ expression, before turning on your heel, rushing back through the dance floor with your hand clamped over your mouth. You needed fresh air. You needed to _get out of this fucking club._

You slammed the front door open and by the grace of god, the first thing you saw when you got outside was a metal trashcan on the sidewalk. You stumbled up to it, placed your hands on either side of the rim, and let yourself be sick. It was liquid heartbreak and disgust, and at least you felt _some_ relief when you were done.

You breathed heavily, head still bobbing over the top of the trash can. You rested it on your arm, catching your breath and letting the tears fall.

But then you heard slow footsteps behind you, and you knew exactly who it was. The last person you wanted to see you like this. You lifted your head, breathing heavily through your nose, fuming with anger.

Without turning to face him, you kept your hands braced on the trash can, which was the only thing balancing you. "What kind of sleezebag goes to the same bars as students?" you slurred, somewhat less drunk than you'd been before, but not nearly enough.

"This isn't a bar for students," he corrected you. "Students never come here; this isn't a bar for kids."

"You're here aren't you?" you asked, slowly steading yourself to stand upright and turning to face him. Ren stood a good few feet away from you, watching you, making sure you were alright but not rushing to your aid either. "What are you, late twenties?" you grimaced at him, and tried to keep your lower lip from trembling as you tried to stand strong and dignified before him. "You couldn't have been a day out of grad school when you got your job. Which begs the question, actually, _just how_ does someone straight out of school get hired as a department head at a renowned university?" The silence hung between you, and now, you were looking at him just as cold as how he usually looked at you. "But connections'll get you anywhere, I guess. When you come from a rich and famous family, the sky's the limit." His expression wasn't as hard as usual, you noticed. It was nearly blank. Impossible to read. "And the world is your bitch."

"You need to go home," he said, taking a step forward.

You took a step back, lifting your hands in a "don't shoot" gesture, or, in this case, "don't fucking touch me."

" _You_ need to go home," you shot back, not unlike a fucking five-year-old. He took another step, and you dodged him, bouncing to your right and taking another step back, dropping your hands and glaring up at him.

"Why are you so quick to anger?" you asked him. "At first, when I saw you throwing books and shit around your office and ripping it up even when I was standing in the room with you, I thought, _shit,_ this must really stem from some childhood trauma."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he said, though not un-gently, taking another step forward and tenderly wrapping his hand around your wrist, at this point mostly just to keep you standing upright.

"Your mom wasn't around as much as you wanted. But if you'd just _waited_ a couple of years to figure out that everyone has it hard when they're a kid and that things get _better..."_ your voice trailed off. And furiously, you searched for the words. "You're a selfish kid from a rich family whose parents weren't around for your _stupid_ _middle school band concerts_ because they were off making the world a better place."

"What are you talking about?" he sputtered, the confusion and concern now plain on his face.

" _You're_ Ben Solo," you spat. Before, you weren't sure. But just as the words left your lips, you _knew_ it to be true.

As soon as you said it, the world went silent and slow around you.

Everything seemed to stop. Time didn't move the same. It was slow, deliberate, causing you to experience everything that came at you all at once and let it consume you.

The first thing you saw were his eyes. You watched them go wide as you felt his hand slip from your wrist. And then, you were falling, toppling backward, watching him grow farther away from you as your back headed for the pavement.

The loud blare of a car horn broke your trance, the shining of headlights from your left realizing that time was happening _now,_ and it was _very real,_ and now, _very fast._

You felt his hand slip behind your waist and tug you against him. The car horn blazed again as it sped past you and the headlights died away, and as soon as it past, the motion he'd taken to grab you had proved to be overshot. He lost his balance and the two of you tumbled to the asphalt road below.

You held your breath for several seconds. When your eyes fluttered open, Ren was inches away from your face, one arm holding you flush against the chest, and the other resting on the ground beside you, hand cupping the side of your face. He searched your expression as if he was making sure you were alright. Neither of you said a word; you just stared at each other, catching your breath, wordlessly making sure that both of you seemed okay and uninjured. You furrowed your brow, looking to the side. His right forearm had taken the bulk of the fall.

You opened your mouth to ask if he was alright, but just before you could, he pushed himself to his feet with a strained grunt and held out his good arm to you. Lifting yourself so you sat on your butt, you hesitated. You didn't want to trust him to give you the time of fucking day. He'd hurt and lied to you once, and he was at the bar with another woman. But he'd also just potentially saved your life.

Resolved, you clasped his hand and let him pull you up. And just as you were pulling yourself to your feet, you heard the bar door fly open. But yours and Ren's heads snapped around to see who was there.

Rose, Finn, and Poe now stood at the front of the bar, watching you standing close to Professor Ren with your hand in his.

Ren didn't know what to say. Neither did you. Neither of you knew how to cover. So instead, Ren settled with the very pressing question: "What the hell are all of you doing here?" He pulled his hand away from yours and moved it to hover behind your back—no longer an intimate touch but still enough to make sure you were sturdy on two feet.

Speechlessly, they kept their gaze fixed on the both of you, eyes switching between you and Ren, undoubtedly trying to make sense of the situation before them.

"My dad?" Poe answered pathetically.

"She with you?" Ren asked, lazily pointed at you, quirking a brow.

Your friends nodded without a word.

"I found her out here hurling into the trash can and stumbling into the road. If you let her get this drunk, you shouldn't have let her out of your sight," he criticized.

"I'm _fine,"_ you insisted.

Rose stepped forward. "We thought she just went to the bathroom," she told Ren.

"Hey. I'm right here."

"She needs to go home," he said.

Poe stepped forward. "I can take her." He looked around at Finn and Rose. "You guys can stay. I'll take care of it."

You felt Ren's hand press against your back harder, nearly pulling you towards him. "I'm headed back that way," Ren said. A lie. His house was closer to the bar than it was to campus. "I'd be happy to drop her off."

You watched Poe as his brow furrowed, looking at Ren like he'd proposed something totally taboo and inappropriate because, well, he kind of had. You felt your whole body clench with panic. 

"N...no." Poe said, shaking his head. "That's okay. We're her friends. Sorry to bother you, professor."

Ren hesitated before letting you go. Rich of him to be jealous of Poe, especially given the way he and Finn had been dancing all night. The irony of it was almost delicious; Poe wasn't interested in you at all because he was interested in _Finn,_ but the way Ren was looking at him was nearly enough to blow your cover once and for all.

But all at once, Ren dropped the anger, hid it away and buried it deep, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Not a problem. You kids have fun." Without another look, he walked past your group of friends and headed straight back into the bar. "Get her home safe," he added behind him, before closing the door and disappearing.

When you got back to the lot, all of your friends were trying to help you into the car. "I'm not that fucking drunk!" you told them, swatting hands away as they tried to guide and steady you, all of you having decided to call it a night.

"Yeah, yeah." Poe muttered, buckling your seat-belt and hopping into the driver's seat, Finn sitting next to him. You thought you saw them share a look, a smile, before Poe pulled out of the lot and headed for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don’t drink and drive! 
> 
> Here’s what you wore to the bar:  
> https://www.lulus.com/products/hilaria-navy-blue-sequin-bodycon-mini-dress/833922.html?VSSugg=True&%3Brrec=true&%3Brrec=true


	6. Disappear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the end of the period, you were ready to slip out the door. You gathered your things and headed for the door, ending up at the back of the crowd. For the first time, you were eager to disappear from Ren into the throng of the rest of his students. For once, you didn’t want to stand out.
> 
> And of course, that was the time he held you back.
> 
> You stopped in your tracks. You closed your eyes. 
> 
> You could just leave. It’s not like this would have anything to do with class. He had no right to keep you here. No right to use his standing as a professor to ask you to “stay and talk after class.”  
> But you knew you wouldn’t leave. You knew within an instant that you’d stay. Turn around. Look at him. And listen. And that’s exactly what you did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in the comments, I was having trouble with writer's block while trying to start this chapter. I had NO IDEA I would end up going in this direction even after I started this chapter, and I think this one has turned out to be my favorite one yet. That's what I ADORE about writing fic. You can literally take it wherever it leads you! Hope you enjoy <3

All the best parts of Saturday night were a blur. So naturally, all the parts you wanted to forget burned all too bright in your memory—your painful encounter with Ren when you saw him with that- that _woman._ The embarrassing encounter with him right after—the one that began with you throwing up in a trash can on the sidewalk and ended with you biting back tears while your friends shuffled you into the back of Poe's car.

You'd never dreaded your classes with Ren before. Even after this whole... _thing_ started, the anticipation of seeing him in the classroom, knowing _he'd_ be seeing _you_ , filled you with so much excitement you had thought you could burst.

Now, you _were_ dreading it. You were embarrassed. But more than that, you were _angry._ And the anger superseded the embarrassment by a long shot. You had gotten too drunk. And you had somehow run into Kylo fucking Ren while you were out, and that _sucked._ But you reminded yourself that it wasn't your fault you'd wound up in the same place, and in fact, he was the last person you'd wanted to see. The entire point of going out was for you to jumpstart the process of getting over him.

You used to practically get buzzed off of picking your outfit for class. You used to make it a point to try and be noticed. To try and distract him during his lectures. Throwing it all together- your makeup, your hair, your clothes—it became your mission to look as best as you could so that he'd notice you. And to watch him, trying to catch him in the act of checking you out. That was a flirtation in itself, wasn't it? It was fun. Exciting. _Thrilling._ It never worked, of course. Or, rather, it actually _did_ work, but he never let on.

Today was different.

You'd spent Sunday hungover, and you didn't hear a word from Ren. Monday, you were feeling marginally better physically speaking, but emotionally you were just as much as a wreck as you were the day before, and the day before that.

Who the hell was that woman?

Tall, dark, and intimidating-looking, she'd looked like she'd stepped out of Vogue magazine. She was hotter than every woman you'd seen that night, and that made you despise her even more. And the worst part was he didn't owe you anything. _She_ wasn't doing anything wrong. You were mad. And you didn't have a reason to be—not at her.

Because you and Kylo weren't even together. You never were.

 _Him,_ on the other hand, you were furious with. And you had reason to be.

Facing him, facing it all. You were dreading it. You were dreading it so much you considered skipping. You almost did. You were nearly late because you stayed in bed up to the last possible minute, having made up your mind that you weren't going to his dumb class.

But then you realized you didn't want to give him the satisfaction. And with barely any time to spare, you leapt out of bed, shoving your blankets to the side with frustration, yanked on some leggings, saying "fuck you" to the concept of underwear, threw on a white cropped tee and an over-sized sweatshirt you'd stolen from Poe's car the other night when you were cold and crying and whining. Throwing your backpack over your shoulder and slipping a pair of Birkenstocks over your socks, you hustled out the door, grabbing your sunglasses and lanyard off the coffee table as you went.

And though you couldn't believe how shitty your life felt, within ten minutes of you leaving your dorm and power-walking across campus, you found yourself sitting in your usual spot in Ren's classroom, staring out the window with knots in your stomach, wondering why he was running late and wishing he would just show up already so you could get the trauma of watching him walk into the room over with.

He walked in not three minutes late. You couldn't keep your head from jerking up and towards the door each time you heard someone arrive, and when he walked through the door, you made eye contact immediately.

For a half-second, it looked like he stalled in the doorway, taking you in, as if he was surprised to see that you were there at all.

Your breath caught in your throat and for a moment you thought the wind had been knocked out of you. But the moment he dropped his gaze and walked over to his desk to throw down his bag, you exhaled, looking town at the tabletop underneath you and wringing your hands in your lap.

The lecture droned on. You didn't have any interest in listening to Ren, and to be honest, were only there for your attendance grade and to spite him. You spent the classroom gazing out the window, your head in your hand, propped up by your elbow on your desk. And for once, Ren didn't give you trouble. He picked on kids all the time for not paying attention, but _you_ were the only one he ever singled out for virtually not doing anything wrong in the first place. He'd call you out in front of everyone when you took too long to think about the answer to a question and say that you were underprepared. He'd call you out for not paying attention just because you hadn't raised your hand in a while. You weren't sure if it was because he was trying to push you to be better, or because he got off on singling you out.

But you were starting to figure out that it was probably both.

Today, though, for the first time, you weren't hiding your lack of interest. And for once, Ren didn't call you out. You guess he'd gotten the picture that you wouldn't be in the fucking mood.

Halfway through the lecture, you made eye contact with him, and it knocked the breath out of your lungs and caused your stomach to flip over in your belly. You tried not to let on, and you held his gaze until you looked away from him, back out the window.

At the end of the period, you were ready to slip out the door. You gathered your things and headed for the door, ending up at the back of the crowd. For the first time, you were eager to disappear into the throng of the rest of his students. For once, you didn't want to stand out.

And of course, that was the time he held you back.

"[Y/SURNAME]. Not quite yet; I'd like to speak with you, please," he said flatly.

You stopped in your tracks. You closed your eyes.

You could just leave. It's not like this would have anything to do with class. He had no right to keep you here. No right to use his standing as a professor to ask you to " _stay and talk after class."_

But you knew you wouldn't leave. You knew within an instant that you'd stay. Turn around. Look at him. And listen.

And that's exactly what you did.

But you weren't--and didn't look--fucking happy about it.

You scowled at him, clutching your textbook to your chest, which you'd elected to not pack away into your bag to save time and get out of the classroom quicker. A futile attempt at getting out as quickly as possible.

There was a long silence between you. You stared at him, grimace plain on your face, chin tilted upward in defiance, but the corners of your lips twitched downwards in sadness. You could already feel the tears threatening to spill over and contort your whole expression into your ugly-cry face. You wanted to stay strong. You _had_ to.

"What do you want?" you asked after a long pause.

The second silence was almost just as long. He looked at you for a long moment without moving, jaw set contemplatively just as it always was when he was deep in thought, before crossing his arms.

"That was quite the performance Saturday night," he said lowly, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose before cocking his head. "I wanted to make sure you're alright."

You scoffed. "You seem positively concerned." Your voice was dry and sarcastic as humanly possible. "The _mocking_ really seals the deal."

He gave you an irritated look. "I'm being serious."

"So serious you didn't even try to ask in the last," you made a performance of looking down at an invisible watch on your wrist. "Nearly 48 hours?"

"Well I couldn't exactly make an appearance at your dorm," he said flatly. "Not exactly an appropriate environment for a professor to enter into."

 _Neither is a student's cunt,_ you thought, but bit back the words just in time. You couldn't blame him for _that._ You were more than willing. You _wanted_ it. Wanted him. Wanted him beyond just sex, and you were hurt that he didn't want you back.

"Have you forgotten that phones are a thing?" you scoffed again. "You certainly haven't hesitated to call upon me before."

"I thought that you would want some time," he explained with no particular patience in his voice, "and I wanted to see you." You felt your lip quiver. He lowered his voice suddenly, eyes darting towards the door that you'd left open. "Before I said anything, I wanted to see you," he said quickly. Too quickly.

"Well. I'm fine. Thanks for your concern," you spat.

"You _seem_ fine," he said, the sarcasm rampant but dry in his gruff voice.

"You know what? You didn't stick around to make sure I was fine. You went right back into that bar to cuddle up to whoever-whatever _woman_ you were with. And that's alright," you said, taking a step back and raising your free hand. "I didn't ask you to. You don't owe me that," you scoffed.

"What would you have had me do? Tell your friends I wanted to take you home myself? And- and that _woman_ I was with? She's just a friend." His voice was growing just as flustered as yours.

"I don't care what she is!" you hissed, eyes glancing toward the door. It seemed like everyone was filing out, save a few stragglers that hadn't quite made it towards the exit. You looked down, taking a furious deep breath, and tried to compose yourself and look as inconspicuous as possible should anyone glance in. "I don't care what she is." This time, your voice lower, the hushed words feigning a sense of calmness that you didn't truly feel. "It's none of my business." The words tasted sour in your mouth, whether they were the truth or not. "In fact," you laughed bitterly, "Since you've made it so painstakingly clear what this is," you said, gesturing between the both of you, "you shouldn't have come after me in the first place." You gave him a subtle but smug look. "I don't even understand why you did."

"You're a bright girl. I think you know perfectly well that I cared enough to go after you," he spat back. The word "care" sounded foreign in his mouth, you realized. And by the look on his face, you guessed that it felt foreign for him to use.

You shook your head in disbelief. "You really don't make any fucking sense," you whispered. "You expect me to just show up wherever you are and fuck you at your beck and call, and then tell me to get the fuck out when we're done and that I can't so much look you in the eye afterwards. And now you're telling me that you _care?"_

Your voice was strained, hurt, the words coming out on shaking air. Your body trembled. He watched you as you shook with anger and confusion and frustration. And for a moment, you wondered why you were still there. Why you cared to stay and try and hear him out if he had nothing to give you but mixed-signals and pain.

But then, he was just sort of on you. And all thoughts of wanting to leave were as far away in your mind as could possibly be.

Your books clattered to the floor. He leapt up to cup your face in his hands and kissed you _fiercely._ His mouth crashed against yours, hands gripped you tight, lips molded against your own. Your hands found the sides of his face and you clutched him against you, all pretenses of leaving him, of being done, completely having vanished.

The scuff of sneakers outside the door caused you to shove him away, your head snapping towards the entryway. You held your breath in sheer terror, but exhaled when you saw that no one was there. You looked back to Kylo, who looked just as caught in the headlights as you felt. You ran to the door, shut it, and locked it, and by the time you turned around, he was already there, hands on your waist, lips finding yours again.

He was gentler this time, savoring your taste, his tongue dragging across your lower lip. You had questions of course—if he was angry with you for finding out about Ben Solo. If this meant you were together now, at least more together than you were before. If this meant that he cared for you— _truly._ But there would be time for words later. Each time a thought entered your brain, it wisped away, vanishing completely every time you heard one of his small, gruff, and completely precious moans. The sound vibrated against your lips and made you go dizzy.

You could have kept tasting him forever. His lips were soft, but his kiss perfectly and deliciously rough. Each time he shifted his lips, molded them against yours, you relished in the sound each kiss made.

"Kylo," you breathed into his open mouth as his tongue slid against yours. He groaned in response, the sound of his name causing him to press against you harder. Faster. His hands moved to yank your leggings down. Whimpering, you struggled to keep his lips against yours as you moved to step out of your leggings, holding onto his collar for balance.

He growled, his fingers darting to unbuckle his belt.

You heard the zip of his jeans, and then, just against your head, on the other side of the wood behind you, you heard a knock at the door.

You went frozen in his arms.

Your gaze found his in an instant. His eyes were as wide as the moon for a moment. But when he heard the second knock, his head snapped up to look at the door. He lifted a finger to his lips, pulling you gently by the arm away from the door, as if there was a monster on the other side.

"Professor Ren." You heard an unfriendly voice from the outside, and it only made you panic even more.

You stumbled and reached down to yank up your leggings as he buckled his belt and shifted the bulge in his pants through his pocket. Just after you bent down to scramble up your things, he pointed to the desk and you darted towards it, shoving away all of your books except one, opening it to a random page. He looked at you, his hand on the doorknob, and nodded, a silent understanding clear between the two of you.

And then he turned to the door and opened it.

You'd only seen the Dean of Students once or twice in all your years at the University. Once at homecoming, and once at a graduation ceremony you attended for a friend. But there he stood, stoic and cold in the doorway, eyes meeting Kylo Ren's.

"Dean Hux," Ren said flatly. Fuck, he was composed as hell. That was good. Just seconds ago, he had been a growling beast with his tongue in your mouth and hard cock pressed against your center. He didn't let on at all. But something about Hux's eyes were scrutinizing. It made you nervous. You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, hoping you looked half as inconspicuous.

"Per my email from this morning, I thought I'd pay you a visit. I wanted to personally congratulate you on a very successful evaluation by the Board."

You stood behind Kylo, a few feet away, and couldn't see his face. You would still have staked your life on it that he was smirking at Hux, though. You heard him let out a small chuckle. "I'm sure you were thrilled with those results, Hux. You'll have to forgive me. I forgot about your little request to stop by," he said, taking a step back and turning casually to face you. His eyes met yours for a second, and unlike the faux-calmness in his body, they were laser-focused and hyper-aware.

But it wasn't like Kylo to forget things. You felt a twinge of concern in your heart.

"I was just meeting with a student."

Hux's eyes landed on you, and you suddenly felt like you were being dissected.

"My apologies about the door. It shut after the rest of my students left. Someone must have left it locked," he said, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking at you. "This is [Y/N]. She's my best student. Truly the most remarkable in her class. I'm happy to show you some of her work on Freud and Schklovsky. And Shakespeare, for that matter," he chuckled, rubbing his jaw. "If we'd had her in class when we were students, she would have given you a run for your money."

You heart swelled with pride and flattery. You tried not to look at him lovingly.

Something of a grimace drifted into Hux's features.

"Another time, perhaps," he mumbled, giving you a pained smile and a nod. "Again, Professor, I just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done, and say that I hope there are no hard feelings. I'm only doing my job." He said the words like he was a goddamn lieutenant.

"Understood, Hux," Kylo said, giving him a smug grin. "Glad it worked out the way it did."

Hux gave you one more look, and you could have sworn you saw his eyes narrow at you. But without another word, he turned on his heel, and was out the door as quickly as he'd come.

You stood in silence for a good few moments after Hux left. And after some time had passed, the two of you exhaled at the same time. You looked at the floor. There was a feeling of clear relief in the room. But there was something else. A sour feeling. Not dread, not exactly. But the feeling that what had just happened was far too close of a call. And that you could never, _ever_ come that close to getting caught again.


	7. Between Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “But you ignore me, too.”
> 
> “I ignore you because we’re in class. We can’t afford to treat each other any differently.”
> 
> “You don’t let me kiss you. I mean, we’re already having sex; what’s the big deal? I mean, what are you, ‘Pretty Woman?’” You asked sheepishly.
> 
> “Yes, because I don’t want there to be any confusion as to what this is between us.” He explained calmly. “What’s happening between us is good, but it can’t go any farther than what it already is.”
> 
> “It already has.” You whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DARE I SAY that today we have a little…r o m a n c e ????!!!!
> 
> Just want to take this opportunity to say THANK YOU for 200 kudos and your kind comments. They give me life. I love reading each one. They make my day. I’m so happy you guys are enjoying. You’re all dope. THANKS FOR READING AND ENJOY THE CHAPTER!!!!
> 
> Pro-tip: Highly recommend listening to "the chain" by ingrid michaelson during their convo in the living room.

One foot after the other. That's what you focused on, and the sound of your heels clicking against the sidewalk. Your breath was still rapid, your heartbeat thudding in your chest so loud it rang in your ears. You didn't know if it was because of what had just happened, or because you were practically power-walking to put as much distance between yourself and Holdo Hall as possible.

That was close. _Too_ close. Kylo didn't strike you as a man who was easily shaken. Easily angered, sure, without a doubt. But frightened? Never. But you'd watched his eyes follow Hux out of the room. You'd seen it on his face.

It was like you two couldn't stop yourselves. And it wasn't just that you'd seen the opportunity of you being alone together and impulsively taken it. It was even worse. You thought back to before Hux had knocked on the door. What you felt when you were kissing Kylo. Barely anything would have stopped you. The _knowledge_ of the risk wasn't enough to make you use your head and _think_ about what you were doing. You knew it was wrong, too risky. To do it in a classroom. During class hours. Again.

Only when a faculty member came knocking on the door were you able to pull yourself off of him.

Kylo didn't peel his eyes away from the door when he told you to get out of there.

"Kylo-" you'd tried.

"Go," he said quickly, turning to you for a moment, desperate eyes begging you to have faith in him. "Trust me. I'll call you. Just get out of here."

"Do you think he suspects us?"

He hissed your name, turning to you and grabbing onto your arms. "I promise I will call you and we will talk. But right now, you need to go."

His eyes. Fear. Fear of losing his job, of losing everything he'd worked for. Of everything he had.

Well, at least you'd finally seen the man rattled.

The two of you had two strikes under your belts. He'd told Poe that he could drive you home that night at the bar. That was bad move number one. And now this-- Hux walking in on the two of you with the door locked. There was no way he wasn't suspicious of _something._ And if he was, all he had to do was wait for the two of you to fuck up again.

Kylo didn't call, but he did text. Later that evening, while you were taking a depression nap, or in this case, maybe a stress nap, the buzzing of your phone woke you up. Squinting, you looked at the text. He was asking you to come over, but he didn't want to risk sending his driver. He didn't want you seen with _anyone._ Moments later, he sent you money you for an Uber.

You quickly typed that you'd shower and eat and be right over.

He responded that you could forget it, and to come ASAP.

You threw your blanket and went to the bathroom for a quick refresh before heading out to catch your ride.

As you approached the luxurious Back Bay neighborhood of Boston, you felt just as nervous as before. You fiddled with the hem of your sweatshirt sleeve. For all you knew, the "talking" that Kylo had promised would actually be a breakup. You could hardly blame him. You could try, but it would be hard to hold it against him if he didn't think you were worth the risk of losing his job. Perhaps you should have been smarter about this whole thing in the beginning, and then you wouldn't have been nervous to the point of your stomach doing backflips in the back of the car as you approached his brownstone.

You gave a sheepish thanks to the driver as climbed out of the backseat before walking up the steps to Kylo's front door and knocking with a trembling fist.

Waiting for him to answer felt like it took forever, and you would be lying if you said you didn't check over your shoulder to make sure no one from school--or Dean Hux--was standing there, ready and waiting to rat you out.

Your head whipped back around to the door when Kylo opened it, and you ducked inside faster than you cared to admit.

The two of you looked each at other silently for a few moments.

"Hi," you breathed when you were tired of the quiet.

"Hi," he mumbled.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he said, rubbing the back of his head. He looked stressed. "Sorry about earlier. I thought it would be best if you just...got as far away from me as possible. In case he decided to come back for a follow-up visit." He turned toward the staircase, gesturing for you to follow and giving you a "come here" motion with two fingers without turning back to you.

"So you _do_ think he's suspicious?" you blurted.

"I think there's a few things you should know about Armitage Hux," he said, Hux's name falling off his lips like "Lord Voldemort" off of a wizard's.

You followed him to the living room, both of you sitting down on the royal blue couch. He rested his elbows on his thighs, his frame slightly bent forward, brow indicating that he was deep in thought. You felt a twinge of guilt. You didn't want Kylo to lose his job. That was the _last_ thing you wanted, even if it meant you lost him.

"If it were anyone else," he said after a long pause, "I wouldn't be concerned. But Hux is rather hell-bent on my destruction."

"Is there a story behind that that I should know about?"

He leaned back, letting his head fall back onto the top of the cushion behind him. "Nothing more than a petty rivalry when we were attending the university."

"Does this school solely employ twenty-somethings into high coveted, senior-level positions of authority?"

"He was in grad school when I was an undergrad. Didn't have anything better to do with his time than create problems with a freshman who was obviously smarter than him." He sighed. "Honestly, the position I have now is probably the poor bastard's dream job. If he catches a whiff of misconduct, he won't stop at anything to take it from me. He's already tried to have me fired once in the past week," Kylo scoffed.

"Wait, what?"

"Oh. I forgot; I didn't tell you. Remember that night you found me in my office before you stormed out?"

"After you'd thrown around so many books that it looked like a bomb had gone off? How could I forget?" 

"He'd tried to use my familial problems to make a case that I was unfit to teach."

"That's insane!"

"I know!" he shouted, suddenly sitting upright. "Said my emotional trauma prevented me from being emotionally available and approachable to my students."

"Well," you considered.

"WHAT?" he bellowed, turning to you. "You're taking _his_ side?"

"No!" you scoffed. "Of course not." He scoffed at you too, and flopped back against the back of the couch, staring up at the ceiling. "I'm just saying you're hardly the most approachable nor the most emotionally available person I know. You might actually be the least. But that's not a reason to get fired, and him trying to bring your family into this-" You shook your head. "He has no place."

"Yes. You'd know all about my family, wouldn't you?" he murmured. You turned to look at him. The lids of his eyes were half-closed, and he side-glanced at you devilishly.

You fought to find the words, and you weren't successful.

"I know you have a lot of questions about me. But you're not the only one who's owed some answers," he said. "What do you know?" He didn't phrase it like a question. He phrased it like it was a direct fact that you were going to answer him.

You sighed, bringing up your legs to sit criss-crossed on the couch. You fiddled with the edge of your sleeve again. "I found an envelope."

"An envelope," he echoed flatly.

"The day...the first day we..." You cleared your throat. "Let's just say a bunch of things got knocked off your desk and when I went to pick them up..." You tilted your head. "It was made out to a Ben Solo."

You waited for him to speak. He didn't.

"And I know that having a letter with someone else's name on it could have meant a million different things. But I don't know I just...you're kind of notoriously mysterious and secretive as it is. The fact that you might not be who you say who you are might actually _make you_ make more sense."

Kylo was silent for a few moments. "Is this what all this is, then?" he asked, gesturing between the two of you. "You trying to play at being a detective and cracking the big case?"

"Are you fucking serious?" You turned to look at him, your brows knit together, for a moment thinking he was kidding. A part of you was a little outraged for a second; he was the one who didn't even want to talk about what "this" was. You shook your head. "What's happening between us is happening because I..." You swallowed back the words you really wanted to say, "enjoy being with you. I just thought if I figured out the letter on your desk, I could figure out why you..." You looked away from him and back down to your lap, hoping it would give you the bravery to continue. "Why you seem to hate me so much," you muttered, the words barely above a whisper.

"How do I seem like I hate you, [Y/N]?" He asked you like he was asking a deep, philosophical question in class, like he was urging you to examine what you'd said. "I admit to being attracted to you. To enjoy _being_ with you. I've given you extra help on your schoolwork because you have more potential than any of my other students."

"But you ignore me, too."

"I ignore you because we're _in class_. We can't afford to treat each other any differently."

"You don't let me kiss you. I mean, we're already having sex; what's the big deal? I mean, what are you, 'Pretty Woman?'" you asked sheepishly.

"Yes, because I don't want there to be any confusion as to what this is between us," he explained calmly. "What's happening between us is good, but it can't go any farther than what it already is."

"It already has," you whispered, looking up at him. "You asked me here tonight. You told me you care about me. That was all you."

"I do care about you," he said softly, eyes looking at you earnestly. "But don't you understand that we have to be careful? I'm your professor. We were careless today, and we can't make that mistake again, whatever careless means."

"But want we just let this be whatever it wants to be? Don't you _want_ to kiss me?"

His expression softened, and suddenly, a fog of silence lay between you. You were frozen in fear, wondering how he was going to respond to your blunt words, even if you'd said them softly, so softly that he could barely hear them. You wondered if you'd ever move.

But then he leaned in, his lips landing on yours.

Your eyes fluttered shut. You stayed still for a long moment, surprised and wondering—wondering if this was the right choice for him, but soon, you couldn't remember what you were wondering about; your thoughts dissipated, floating away until they were nothing, and your fingertips found his cheek to rest on and you gently pressed up against him as strong hands found your waist.

He had never been gentle before. He had in fleeting moments, but not like this. Not like his body, his touch was asking you to stay with him.

You let your lips part slightly to deepen the kiss, to draw him in closer. He followed you, lips pressing against yours, yearning. You pressed against him, wanting to be closer. You felt his hands guide you to his lap. You straddled his legs, both hands going to cup his cheeks as your desire mounted. Still with tender hands, his palms trailed down the length of your back, slowly, as he tasted you. You sighed against his lips, breathing softly, and tried your best to draw him closer, but he was already flush against you. A hand snaked into his hair, feeling him, and you found yourself whimpering as he parted his lips more, kissing you lazily, gripping you slightly tighter. Harder.

Your breath hitched as one of his hands curled into your hair and gripped, gently pulling your head back. His lips left yours but quickly pressed against your neck. Your eyes fluttered shut and you sighed as he leaned to kiss across your neck and up to your jaw. He nipped your skin tenderly, running his tongue over the blooming red patches he'd marked on you. Your hands were in his hair, pulling softly as your pleasure grew and intensified. You shifted forward onto his lap, the friction causing him to hiss. Your crotch flush with his, you felt his hardness press up against you, and you couldn't stop yourself from how badly you wanted him. Mindlessly, you began to squirm in his lap, and his grip on your locks tightened as he began to kiss you more forcefully, his lips moving from your jawline back to your mouth. He yanked you against him and you went dizzy, the only thing filling your mind desire and his lips. You groaned as your mouths crashed together and his hands ran over every inch of your body.

You found yourself tugging at his collar and whimpering, hips rolling against his.

He breathed your name, lips brushing against yours.

"Please" you whispered back.

His eyes didn't leave yours as he lifted your sweatshirt from over your head. You followed suit, removing his shirt and running your hands down his bare chest as soon as it was free. The first time you'd ever seen his bare chest. And it was...it was broader than you expected. He was all muscle and warm skin, like a man. A real man. Sometimes you doubted that he was even that. But in this moment, it reminded you of what he was. That you, him, and Hux, the world full of people-- you weren't all that different. Your eyes fluttered shut as your fingertips caressed his strong, naked skin, the warmth feeling like heaven and bliss.

You felt his hands cup your cheek and his lips kiss you again. When he pulled away you opened your eyes and watched him move to unclasp your bra. It fell from your chest and he dropped it to the floor, suddenly yanking you against him again. He kissed you roughly, and you felt his arm move between you so his hand could work at one of your breasts. He rolled it underneath his hand, holding and massaging it roughly, before moving to the other one, feeling you up with one hand and keeping you pressed as close as you could be with the other.

His hands smoothed over your skin to your hips, pulling you against him and causing you to grind against his hardness. You gasped and ground harder, causing him to groan. He rested his forehead against yours and whispered, "I want you. Now."

You quickly stood and pulled off your leggings, eyes never leaving him; you watched him pull down his joggers and as soon as you were free from your remaining clothes, you climbed back on top of him, kissing again as he moved his hand in between you to grasp his cock.

His parted lips were brushed against yours as he pressed himself into you, and he lifted his hips until he was fully seated inside you, your skin flush and pressed against his.

You both exhaled against each other. He lowered himself and wrapped a hand around your waist as you took charge, riding him slowly at first, but picking up speed with each roll of your hips. You lifted yourself up to ride the whole length of his dick before lowering yourself back down, gasping and panting, finding it hard to believe how incredibly deep he felt inside you.

His hands moved to your hips, guiding you to slam onto him harder. You sputtered audibly, the intensity mounting between you as he made you fuck him harder. You groaned and threw your head back, hands snaking into his hair and pulling, unable to control yourself—the pleasure was too strong.

" _Kylo,"_ you gasped, working your hips. You felt his fingers pressing into your hipbones; he gripped you _hard_ as he pulled you against him.

You heard him groan. " _Fuck,"_ he breathed, hands moving to grasp your bouncing tits. He dipped his head forward, catching one of them to draw into his mouth. You felt him groan around the roundness of your nipple, and he lazily ran his tongue over your skin, placing kisses against it and drawing his tongue across the tender redness. You moaned at the sensation as he continued to feel your chest, dragging his tongue across to the other one, sucking and licking so forcefully you nearly cried out.

You fucked him harder, feeling yourself growing close to release.

" _Fuck, you're so deep,_ " you whimpered.

He drew his mouth away from your breasts though he kept his hands there, massaging your skin, and pressed his lips lightly against yours. "You're so fucking good," he groaned, placing a lazy kiss against you before pulling away to watch your hips pound and slam against his. "Oh god, fuck, that's so good." 

You cried out, fucking him as hard and as fast as you could, feeling yourself draw closer and closer to release.

Gasping, you looked down, watching his length draw out of you before pounding back in. It was too much, too fucking much.

"Kylo, I'm so close," you whimpered.

He growled and wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you flush against his chest until you couldn't have possibly been any closer. You gripped at his biceps, behind his back, nails digging into his skin, any sense of control long gone.

He held you so you hovered a few inches above him and so tight that you were locked into place. He began thrusting. His hips moved so fast and so forcefully you saw stars. He pounded into you with no mercy, and soon, the sound of his skin slapping against yours was deafening.

You didn't even realize you were shouting, shouting expletives, his name, unintelligible moans. You were already a blathering mess when he fucked you so long and hard and mercilessly that you were cumming on top of him, scratching at whatever body part of his you had a hold of.

You let yourself cry out when your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, shouting his name off of your lips before releasing a moan so loud it filled the whole room and beyond.

He followed closely behind you, his grip around you so tight it nearly cut off your breath as he thrusted through his orgasm, emptying himself inside of you while he filled your ears with growls of your name.

You groaned and let yourself fall limp against him when you came down from your high. You settled your head into the crook of his neck. His grip against you loosened but he still held you, fingers stroking your hair gently.

Your heaving chests pressed together, and you focused on trying to catch your breath.

_Fuck._

You were still for a while. Enjoying the moment, enjoying his warmth...you felt a kiss on the side of your head and your eyes fluttered open.

You shifted and he hissed, his spent cock sensitive inside of you. You slowly pulled off of him, humming through the overstimulation, wrapping your arms around his neck and leaning your forehead on his shoulder, letting your eyes close.

You felt him stroke your back and it sent tingles through your skin. Then fingers on the back of your head, snaking into your hair gently to pull your face to his.

His lips pressed against yours. Your brow furrowed in confusion. At first you were panicked, remembering suddenly that you were breaking the rules, and then nearly immediately remembering that he had initiated the forbidden after-sex kiss. And then you realized he wasn't stopping, and your body relaxed, sinking against him once more. You let the kiss linger, sitting in the magic of the moment, feeling his heartbeat against your chest.


	8. You Know I Can Take Whatever I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He growled against his lips; you could practically feel his blood boiling under his skin. He was all heat and intensity and darkness, and it drew you in and wrapped you under his touch.
> 
> “You know what I want.” He hummed against your ear. “And you know that I can take it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess tw for sexy face slapping just in case???
> 
> I’m really sorry about all the porn, I promise there’s actual plot coming. At the end of the day I just couldn’t justify them not going for round 2 but I tried to keep it concise. I’M SORRY FOR EVERYTHING!  
> Also I have just realized that I’m no longer naming chapters. WOOPS!
> 
> and AS A VERY IMPORTANT REMINDER - **NO ONE SHOULD BE SLAPPING YOU UNLESS IT'S IN A SEXY WAY AND YOU ARE BOTH CONSENTING ADULTS WITH A SAFE WORD! IF NOT, CALL THE POLICE!!! stay safe and read at your discretion <3**

You woke up naked on his couch with the softest blanket you'd ever felt wrapped snugly around your body and tucked up to your chin.

You had woken from your sleep suddenly, for a split-second, not remembering where you were. You shot up and looked around the room, blanket falling from your chest and leaving you bare and exposed against the cool air. You sighed.

Right.

But where was Kylo? You furrowed your brow, looking around the room. No one. And what time was it?

Standing up, you leaned down to pick up your jacket and shuffled through the pocket to pull out your phone. 3:30 a.m. You slung the blanket across your shoulders and held it shut against your chest. If it was the middle of the night and Kylo wasn't sleeping, there was only one thing you were absolutely positive he would be doing.

Working.

You headed up to the third floor, where he'd converted one of six bedrooms into a study. Sure enough, you found the door open and the light on, and when you stepped in, you found Kylo. He was typing away at his laptop. His eyes looked glassy and tired. But at the same time, he still looked laser focused, switching between reading closely and intently and typing at an impressive pace.

You leaned against the doorway and watched him for some time. He looked peaceful and in his element: intense and grueling. And then you realized that he was so intently focused on what he was doing, there wasn't a chance he was going to notice you were standing there.

You took a few steps forward to cross behind the desk so you stood beside him. You placed a hand on the back of his head, running your hand through his hair gently. As soon as he felt your touch, he turned his face to look at you, his expression not softening.

Your chest tensed and for a moment, and you panicked internally. Had you overstayed your welcome? Had he left you on his couch to tend to his work with the expectation that you would see yourself out?

But no...he had broken his own Julia-Roberts-rule of kissing you. On the lips. Didn't that make you Richard Gere at the end of "Pretty Woman?"

But then again, Kylo Ren was the king of mixed signals. There was absolutely no fucking way of being able to tell what he wanted you to do.

"Sorry," he murmured, taking off his glasses and placing them beside his laptop before shutting it. You immediately calmed, leaning closer against him. "I couldn't sleep knowing I had to finish all of this..." He gestured frustratedly towards his computer and leaned back in his chair.

"You look tired," you whispered.

"Do I?" he asked in a low voice, one strong arm wrapping around your waist and gently tugging you until you gently fell into his lap. "Someone must have worn me out."

Slinging your arms around his neck, you grinned and nuzzled your face into the warmth of his neck. He wasn't angry with you for staying. He actually seemed glad you were still here. You kissed the skin just below his ear and raised your head to look at him. Your smile was unmistakable and radiant. Placing a hand on your cheek, he drew you in.

Your eyes fluttered shut just as you felt his lips press against yours. You relaxed in his arms and pulled him tighter, pressing your body against him as you felt his hands roam to your shoulder and push the blanket off of you, shivering against the cool air. You heard it hit the floor in a soft heap and your eyes opened. Your fingers trailed the line of his jaw and you pulled away to look at him.

You brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, gazed down at his tired expression, and sighed. "When's the last time you've slept?" you asked.

"Going on over 24 hours," he muttered, feeling a strand of hair in between his fingers. You felt his hand press against your cheek, thumb pulling down your chin ever so slightly. "You think just because you're growing on me, I'm gonna go easy on you?" he purred, catching your lower lip in between his teeth and running his tongue over the soft skin. You felt his hands catch your waist and his thumbs roll tender but deliberate circles against your hipbones before digging into the skin of your waist.

You breathed hotly against his mouth as the kiss intensified and your brain went foggy. You'd come up here to find him and try to convince him to get some rest. The man was a complete workaholic. If you did anything other than drag him to bed, did that make you an enabler?

But with each slide of his tongue into your mouth and each dive of his lower lip, it became clearer and clearer that you weren't going anywhere. You weren't moving from his lap until he shoved you up against his desk or the wall or wherever the hell he wanted you because the truth was: you were putty underneath his hands. With Kylo, your sense of self-control was out the window and you were his.

At least that truth was the same for him, too.

He growled against your lips; you could practically feel his blood boiling under his skin. He was all heat and intensity and darkness, and it drew you in and wrapped you under his touch.

You shivered against him and in response, he ran his warm hands up and down your arms. You whimpered softly and he gathered your hair in his hands, pulling back your head to kiss your neck. He bit into your skin and a small cry tumbled from your lips. And then suddenly, he was standing, and you were standing with him. The second your ass hit the desk, he spun you around and pushed you forward. Your hands landed on either side of the laptop, palms pressing into the desk. He had one hand wrapped in your hair, pulling it towards him so your back was arched, your ass pressing firmly against the hardness in his pants.

"You know what I want," he hummed against your ear. "And you know that I can take it."

You held your breath, felt him against you, and for a few brief moments, everything was silent.

And then, within seconds, and without warning, you felt him breach your entrance and press into you.

You gasped at the intrusion; it was unexpected, but you couldn't say it was unwanted. The breath you sucked into your lungs was sharp and loud and he was moving before you were ready. He groaned at the tightness and you hissed at the stinging pain in your core. And he didn't show you any mercy.

His thrusts were quick and sharp and gave you no time to adjust. You gasped again and whimpered. "Kylo, I can't."

"Yes, you can," he growled, voice dripping with apathy. He completely sheathed himself into your underworked cunt and pressed against you harder for good measure so you felt him _deep,_ far deeper than what felt normal. You could practically feel him in your _throat._ You sputtered and cried, tears stinging the corners of your eyes. "You're gonna take my big fucking cock, like the good little whore you are."

Your eyes rolled back in your head and you moaned at his words. You were unprepared to be fucked to the point where your cunt ached around his cock, its sheer size stretching you out as far as possible. But within a few thrusts you were practically dripping, and you moaned lowly when you felt him fully coated in your wetness. He was still fucking you roughly. You felt him impossibly deep, and you still stretched out around him a hair farther than what actually seemed feasible.

But it felt fucking divine.

He groaned loudly as he felt the shift too, growling as he fucked you rapidly and without mercy. His jaw fell open and he moaned, long and sustained. The sound was music to your ears and sent electric jolts through your core.

His hips thrusted against you, skin coming to touch skin, the forcefulness of his movements filling the room with an obscene smacking sound that echoed and filled your ears. You felt one of his hands pressed into your lower back and the other was fisted in your hair. He suddenly yanked you upward and you cried out, head lifting upwards as your ass stayed pressed against him for his pleasure.

"You like getting fucked like this?" he growled, hip slapping against your ass.

You " _hmmmm'd"_ in response, bringing up a hand to graze his cheek.

" _Don't,"_ he snapped sharply. "Keep your hands on the fucking desk." His voice was violent and dark, and he seized your wrist so roughly you didn't have a doubt that he could snap it in half. He returned your palm to its place against the top of his desk, bending you over, his stomach now flush with your back.

You could feel his cheek pressed against the back of your head, and one of his hands moved to wrap around your throat, the other moving to work rapid circles around your clit. You sputtered and your air supply suddenly dwindled. You tried to gasp, but the sound came out like a strained, dying breath. Kylo squeezed the sides of your neck with rough fingers and you could feel the blood pulsing in your cheeks, throbbing and making you dizzy.

His hips snapped against you with increasing pace and intensity. You could tell he was close, and you were too. His hand lifted from your throat and you gasped for air. Immediately, you felt the same hand press a light smack against your cheek. Your breath hitched in your throat in surprise and intrigue.

"You like that?" he whispered hotly against your ear.

You whimpered and arched your back further, trying to take him deeper despite the pain. You never thought you would like this sort of thing. You never thought that you would even try it with anyone. But suddenly, here was Kylo, opening you up to a world of pleasure and vulgarity that you didn't even know existed, and _fuck,_ it hurt, but it was _so fucking good,_ you couldn't _imagine_ stopping.

" _Yes,_ " you breathed.

He slapped you harder.

His palm landed against the side of your face with an obscene _smack_ that made you feel sick and delighted and dirty all at once. The skin of your cheek stung and throbbed. You couldn't explain it, but you wanted him to...to _mark_ you. To leave you with scores on your skin, scarred redness. You moaned as he drew you closer to release.

"Harder. Harder please, _ohmygodKylopleasefuckinghitmeharderohmygod_."

He struck you one more time and you cried out when he did, your head whipping to the side from the impact. Your skin burned long after his palm had struck your cheek. Kylo buried his hips against yours, releasing himself with a violent roar. You felt hot spurts of him flood you as he drew out your own orgasm, which was unlike anything you'd ever felt.

Your whole body trembled uncontrollably as string after string of unintelligible expletives dribbled from your choke-swollen lips.

He slowed against you, hips rolling lowly until he rode himself down completely.

And you, exhausted, collapsed against the top of his desk, body tired and worn. Suddenly, you couldn't remember how to move, or how to think.

You twitched as you felt his hand rake through your hair and stroke its length. And then a kiss against your shoulder. You could hear him panting from behind you. You wanted to see him, look at him, see what he looked like after what you just did, see how his eyes glowed in the moonlight from the window and how the sweat glistened off his skin. But you couldn't lift a finger, let alone stand up and turn around.

"Kylo," you whispered, body wracking with a slight sob, feeling exposed and vulnerable, cold and tired. Your body was spent, and suddenly you felt insecure, having previously been unaware of how dirty you could be, and suddenly worried that you weren't good enough. If you had spent all your energy and it hadn't been enough for him. You burned and ached, and you couldn't move a muscle to shield or cover yourself.

You felt his arms wrap around your waist and he gently turned you around before lifting you into his arms.

You opened your eyes to see his face, sharp but gentle, stoic but tender. Understanding.

"Bed," he whispered.


	9. Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That left you and him—just looking at each other. A calm silence. Morning sunlight streaming through the window. A kitchen that smelled like freshly brewed coffee. 
> 
> “We’ve got a lot to talk about today.” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a new chapter? containing actual plot development? groundbreaking.
> 
> No time to proofread, loves, so sorry for any errors. thank you for 300 kudos if I haven't thank you already! ROCK ON!

Your pillows weren't this fluffy. Your sheets weren't nearly as soft as the ones kissing your bare skin. Rubbing your face, you sat up in bed. You could tell that powerful rays of sunlight streamed across your face before you'd even opened your eyes. Your room _definitely_ didn't get this much natural light.

It took you opening your eyes and looking around the room to remember where you were, and even then, you could hardly believe it.

You were in his bed.

You were in Kylo Ren's bed.

And you didn't even had _sex_ in it. Sure, you'd had sex virtually everywhere else, but last night, he'd carried you to bed like you were something precious. Like you were something to be cared for.

And if you didn't know better, it seemed that Kylo wanted to do just that.

You squinted your eyes against the harsh sun as you patted the mattress next to you and felt the empty air above it. Kylo was gone. Which was more than likely fair. You had no idea what time it was. Also, wasn't it Tuesday? You didn't have class until noon—actually, you had a class at 9, but it was a gen-ed, so who gave a fuck? You didn't even know if Kylo would still be here.

You slung your bare legs over the side of the bed. Where the hell were your clothes? You wracked your brain as well as you could for someone who'd just woken up after a night lovemaking that was certainly a step or two above passionate. The last place you'd had sex was the study. And you weren't wearing any clothes when you'd arrived.

But the thought of trying to find your clothes suddenly became less and less important as you actually started to think back on last night. Your cool fingers went to gently trail on your left cheek.

_Right._

You hissed as you realized how much it still stung now that the sleepiness was wearing off. You smiled to yourself as you began going through his drawers until you found a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. You threw the top over your head and straightened it down your torso, watching the hem fall down past your hips and the v-neck collar hang low against your chest. It was too big for you, and you thought about how it would fit tight and snug around his towering frame.

Grinning, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and headed into the hallway and down the stairs to the kitchen, hoping he'd still be there.

And thankfully, he was. Kylo stood at the kitchen island with a white, porcelain coffee mug in hand, eyeing a book that lied open on the counter. He wore his expensive-looking glasses with the clear rims and a suit fit for teaching. He looked as intense and as pointed as ever, even just standing in the middle of his kitchen drinking a coffee from his fancy espresso machine. That was probably because he was 6-foot-3 and never smiled, but still.

Jesus, every time you saw the man just standing literally _anywhere,_ he looked like he should be accompanied by Carl Orff's _O, Fortuna._

His eyes flashed up towards you when he heard your bare feet hit the hardwood floor.

"Good morning."

"What the hell?"

"Pleasure to see you too," he murmured in response, bringing the mug to his lips.

"What time is it?" you asked him. "Where the hell's my phone?"

"Ten o'clock," he said, glancing down at his Rolex. "And I don't know." Kylo turned around and pressed a button on his fancy espresso machine before placing another mug under the dispenser and turning back to you. Was that man making you coffee?

A lot had changed between you in the past few days.

"You don't have class?" you asked, walking over to the side of the counter opposite from Kylo and leaning your elbows on the tabletop, batting your eyes at him.

"I don't," he said, dogearing a page on his book before shutting it altogether. He placed his forearms on the counter too and stared back at you. "Not until this afternoon. I trust you don't either, or you would have prepared. You know, like setting an alarm?" he eyed you knowingly.

"I have class at noon...okay, and a class at nine."

He cocked his head and looked at you, judgement plain in his eyes. "You can't expect to do well on your final if you're skipping class a week before, [Y/SURNAME]."

"Newsflash, Ren, it's intro to bio, so I was never gonna do well on it in the first place."

Finally, he cracked a smile.

That left you and him—just looking at each other. A calm silence. Morning sunlight streaming through the window. A kitchen that smelled like freshly brewed coffee.

"We've got a lot to talk about today," he said, pushing himself off the counter once the sound of streaming coffee finally fizzled out. He turned around and grabbed the other coffee cup, sliding it across the island towards you and leaning back against the other counter along the wall. He crossed his arms. Suddenly, you felt that maybe the peace was disrupted.

You felt yourself tense up, feeling the beginnings of your stomach twisting into knots. A familiar feeling since you'd started seeing Kylo. If you could call it "seeing" him.

He was going to tell you that last night could never be repeated. To get out of his clothes. That you were never allowed to sleep in his bed _ever again._

You dropped your gaze to your cup, focusing on the soft brown color of the coffee, bringing the mug to your lips just so you could look at something other than him. "Is everything alright?" you asked, taking a drink.

"You have finals in a week."

You nearly spat on your drink, your eyes flashing back up towards him. "Thanks, dad."

He tilted his head and looked at you with unamused eyes. "I really need you to never say that ever again," he said, taking a drink of his coffee as well.

"I haven't forgotten about my exams," you said.

He crossed his arms, eyeing you like he _was_ a strict parent. Or maybe just an overinvolved, extremely invested professor.

"I haven't!" you insisted when he didn't say anything.

"Just because we're seeing each other doesn't mean I'm going to grade you easily," he said flatly.

You narrowed your eyes.

"If anything, you've shown me just how exceptional you are. And I'm going to continue to expect great things from you."

You supposed that was fair. He was already tutoring you, after all. There wasn't much point to that in the first place if you didn't even use the skills he was teaching you. Why even try if he was just going to hand everything to you on a silver platter? At least this way, you seemed to truly impress him.

Damn right.

"Then maybe a few more sessions beforehand would help, if you don't mind," you said. "I want to be ready. I want to be _so sure_ I'm ready that there's not a single chance I won't completely _destroy_ everyone else."

"It's not a contest."

"It's a contest to see who's the best in class, and I'm winning."

"I'm glad to finally see some more determination in you, [Y/SURNAME]."

"What can I say?" you grinned. "You bring out my competitive side."

"Why's that?"

"Because," you said, slowly stepping around the island. He glanced down at your bare legs as soon as they were in his line of vision. "The thought of a single other person taking away even the slightest amount of your attention and pride makes me want to commit murder," you purred, slipping your hands into his waistband, cool fingers coming into contact with warm skin.

Noticeably, Kylo straightened and tensed. You smirked and yanked him against you, hips brushing against yours. You heard him inhale and it made you smirk harder. "So what do you say?" you breathed, lips tilted up towards his. "You have time for a couple of extra study seshes?"

He swallowed thickly. "I think I could squeeze you in," he muttered.

"Or, alternatively," you said, "we could just give me an A the old-fashion way," you teased, pulling your fingers out of his waistband and teasing his crotch. "Theoretically, what would one of these get me?" you asked, pressing your palm against his bulge.

He narrowed his eyes at you. "B plus," he said, face stoic and serious, before it broke into an adorably irresistible grin.

You snickered and wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning your head against his chest. He wrapped an arm around you.

"I promise I'm not trying to fuck you for better grades."

"Remind me what you're fucking me for, then?"

"I guess I just kind of like you a little," you said, pulling away and placing one hand on your hip and the other on the counter.

Kylo turned his attention back to his coffee, taking a drink and pushing his glasses up the rim of his nose. "There's another matter we need to discuss," he said nonchalantly, pulling his phone out of his pocket and pulling up his email app.

"And what's that?"

"I want you as my TA next semester," he said without looking at you.

"What?"

"I'm doing a lecture course on literary analysis next term. You already know the material well. You'd be a perfect match for my purposes," he said, pocketing his phone once he'd scanned through his emails, undoubtedly just making sure that nothing pressing had come up.

"That's a 400-level course," you told him.

"So you'll be the envy of every senior who still can't write as well as you," he said, finally directing his attention back to you, tilting his head, examining you curiously.

You didn't say anything.

"I'm well aware of the levels of the courses that I teach, [Y/SURNAME]. And I'm confident that you are fully capable of what I'm asking you. I hope you say yes," he said, before picking up his book and heading out of the room and towards the staircase without another word.

You stood there alone, silently, brain swimming, for just a few moments.

And then you found yourself chasing after him once again.

"Kylo, wait!" you called, practically running after him as he headed up the staircase without even looking back. "Kylo, come on, you can't be serious."

"I'm always serious," he responded without looking over his shoulder. "Get your things, we need to get back to campus."

" _Kylo!"_ you yelled, finally catching up to him at the top of the stairs and grabbing his wrist. Finally, he turned to look at you. He looked amused. You were somewhat less amused, although whatever domestic bliss you were playing at was undoubtedly delightful. You were sure that he didn't have any intention of making you his housemate, but hey, it was fun to pretend.

"I really don't think being your TA is a good idea."

"If you don't think you can handle the material, you're not giving yourself enough credit."

"I know I can handle the material," you said. "I mean...us."

Kylo didn't say anything. And his expression revealed even less than his silence.

"I just mean that...if something happened with us, something _bad,_ then that would leave us both in a pretty awkward situation for the rest of the entire school year."

"So you're planning on revoking your attraction to me, then," he scoffed.

" _I'm_ not planning on changing anything," you challenged, crossing your arms. " _You_ on the other hand...you're about the single least predictable person I've ever met. I mean...sometimes I feel like how _you_ feel about me changes from one day to the next."

You sighed. It was hard to try to predict how he would respond and not get nervous about it when he constantly looked like he had just learned a family member had been brutally murdered and his life purpose was achieving their revenge. He also kind of looked like he was always about to punch someone in the face. That slow, simmering intensity was just a part of his neutral existence.

"I know exactly what I want," he said deliberately and darkly, slowly taking a step forward and making you gulp. "Take the position. It will be a great thing to have on your resume, especially at such an accredited institution. It could lead to bigger things, [Y/N]. And better positions. You should consider your future when thinking about whether or not you're going to accept my offer. And I can't wait for an answer forever. I have to have a TA on file by the end of the term."

You sighed, and stopped protesting. Maybe this was the right move to make. And spending the semester with Kylo was hardly something to complain about.

"Get your things," he said, continuing down the hallway. "And I'll call my driver for you."

You balled your fists and gave yourself a micro, internal pep talk. "You drive me," you blurted.

He stopped in his tracks and turned back to you, expression quizzical. Like you'd lost your damn mind. "And if someone sees us? _Hux?"_ he snapped for emphasis, cocking a brow. As if you needed reminding.

"Then you'll just tell him you were getting coffee with your new assistant."


	10. Elevator

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “If we don’t give them a reason to suspect a thing, then they won’t.” He said, words biting through your skin and making you tingle. He stood directly in front of you now, dwarfing you against his towering frame. “If we don’t act like we’re doing anything wrong,” he said deliberately, eyes narrowing at you, “then they won’t have any reason to believe we are.” His voice was so low, so sexy, and you knew he was warning you against your own behavior but the severity in his tone, in his eyes, made you buckle at the knees.
> 
> He quirked his brow. “If merely being in the same room as me proves to be enough to make you come undone like it does now, perhaps I should reconsider this arrangement.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m struggling a little because I don’t want to make this thing too porny but at the same time if that’s what you guys want, then who am I to taketh away? Let me know your thoughts. LOTS OF FUN STUFF IN THE WORKS so I hope you keep reading <3 Love you, you sexy bitches.

You watched Kylo stare dead ahead through the windshield as he drove you through campus. His eyes were hidden under the darkness of his Ray-Bans, but the intensity of what was brewing between you wasn't lost on you for a second. There was a rippling heat between the two of you confined in the small space of his luxury car as you drove past students making their way to their classes. You watched them as you approached, and you watched them shrink into the background as Kylo sped past them, leaving them in the dust.

It was electric. There they all were, and there _you_ were. You and Professor Ren. Kylo. _Together._ In front of everyone.

You felt like everyone was watching you.

And it ignited your blood.

You could feel the heat coming off of Kylo as well. He couldn't do anything about it; not like this. But even just being in the same car with him felt wicked and bad. You shifted in your seat, suddenly quite cognizant of the heat between your legs, and watched his gaze twitch towards your direction from the corner of you eye. You bit back a grin.

With one hand on the steering wheel and designer shades masking any ounce of emotion that wasn't visible on his face regardless, Kylo looked somewhere between a rock star and a wealthy CEO. He looked _incredible_ and delicious, and you couldn't help but think how nice it would be to straddle him in the backseat of the very car you were in.

Mental note for later.

All that being said, it might have been too much for Kylo to drop you off anywhere other than Holdo Hall. Even though should anyone ask, the story was that you had been grabbing coffee and discussing next term's lecture and your newfound employment under Kylo, the implications of him dropping you off at home were just a little too...well, much.

Kylo pulled into his reserved parking spot behind the English Building and you stepped out of the car. You heeled shoe hit the pavement and your dangerously sexy secret made you feel glamorous and _alluring._ Kylo pulled his sunglasses down from his head, and you shot him a certain _look,_ your eyes pinched subtly the corners, lips pulled into a barely-there smirk.

He flashed you a warning look, but didn't seem particularly bothered by the show.

Looking down, you grinned, and trailed after him through the back doors of the building.

This was your job now, you supposed, accompanying him to his office, making sure there was nothing else he needed, any preparations that you needed to make on his behalf. You weren't employed yet, and you still had his final exam to worry about. But regardless of the extra time you wanted to spend with him, you _would_ need any help preparing for your new position that he could possibly offer you.

Honestly, you could hardly imagine keeping up with Kylo Ren on an intellectual and professional level, but you knew you would get there.

Eventually.

He was the smartest yet most somber, grim but _acutely_ _intense_ human you had ever encountered in all your twenty-something years on earth, and you'd never seen the man make a mistake. You, on the other hand, were rather prone to mistakes, and actually acted like a real human being. You could only hope that he would grace you with an allowance of a few mistakes while you learned.

"You sure you're up for this?" he asked once the two of you were in the elevator. As if he was reading your fucking mind.

"What, now you're trying to talk me out of it?"

"I'm not trying to talk you out of it; I just want to make sure that I'm not holding you to the position against your will," he replied, stoically as ever.

"I want the position," you said evenly. "I want to learn from you and I want..." your voice trailed off and you finished the sentence with a soft, breathy laugh, as you imagined the possibilities of being even closer to him.

Your eyes flickered towards Kylo, and your breath sat heavy in your lungs when you saw he was already watching you. Kylo could pick up on a single drop of desire coming off of you like he had a built-in radar for it, and this time was no exception. Before you even realized how much you wanted him on you, his hands were cupping your face ungently, his lips smashing against yours.

The force of his kiss shoved you back against the wall, and a sickeningly loud smack shook the confined air around you. You felt his tongue dive into your mouth, and parting your lips, you released a shuddering breath as your fingers snatched in his hair and pulled him tighter against you. His lips were violent as they attacked yours, but the kiss was fleeting. As he felt the elevator slow as it neared the top floor, he pulled away, looking down at you with a blank expression. Searching for an answer in his face was fruitless, but you couldn't help but try. You stared up at him, silent, panting, trying to catch your breath and trying to read him and trying to calm your fluttering nerves.

"You should take the position for the right reasons. It would be a valuable experience for you."

"Well, I don't imagine you offered it so we could spend _less_ time together."

The elevator door opened. Kylo, still towering over you and holding your gaze, adjusted the bag at his side. "Hmm," was his only response, and he stepped off the elevator and stalked down the hall to his office.

Ever the king of mixed signals.

You were on his heels, shoving a strand of hair behind your ear. A telltale sign that you were nervous, though hopefully no one would pick up on it. Suddenly, you felt your stomach roiling as you watched professors and students mill about. As you followed Kylo to his office, you felt like the walls were closing in on you—claustrophobic and practically unable to breath.

Once you were in Kylo's office with the door shut behind you, you were able to exhale, breath stuttering on the way out of your lungs. Kylo, rounding his desk, set his bag down and lifted his gaze to watch you, expression nearly concerned.

Concerned wasn't it. Interested? Not quite. Attentive. He definitely _noticed_ that you were struggling.

He didn't say anything. He never did. No, he merely stalked towards the front of his desk and leaned against it, crossing his arms and watching you, waiting for _you_ to speak. As always.

"Do you think anyone suspects us?" you asked, eyes flickering up to meet his, any notion of confidence and sexiness and allure having been thrown out the window in a heap of fire.

"Why should they?" he muttered lowly, shrugging his shoulders and slowly tilting his head. You watched him as he drank you in with his eyes.

 _Jesus fuck,_ he was perfect, and you were generally concerned about getting caught, so _why did you want him even now?_

"We've been discreet."

"Have we?" you scoffed.

"If you're going to be working for me, then it's completely normal that we should be spending an increased amount of time together. It's completely normal for you to come see me. Here." Pushing himself off the desk, Kylo stood and began slowly crossing the room. Towards you.

You held your breath.

"If we don't give them a reason to suspect a thing, then they won't," he said, words biting through your skin and making you tingle. He stood directly in front of you now, dwarfing you against his towering frame. "If we don't act like we're doing anything wrong," he said deliberately, eyes narrowing at you, "then they won't have any reason to believe we are." His voice was so low, so _sexy,_ and you knew he was warning you against your own behavior but the severity in his tone, in his _eyes,_ made you buckle at the knees.

He quirked his brow. "If merely being in the same room as me proves to be enough to make you come undone like it does now, perhaps I should reconsider this arrangement."

Briskly, you turned around, trying to maintain any false shred of confidence left over from your earlier high. Your hand on the doorknob, you turned back to look at him, but were ready to bolt from the pressure of it all. "It won't be a problem," was all you could muster. Fuck, you wished you could have done better-- like telling him not to flatter himself, or making some quip about how maybe he'd be in the same position for having such a sexy-as-hell TA.

But your wit was hardly razor-sharp when he had you like putty in his hands, which was most of the time, so it was just a challenge overall.

"Can you just send me whatever preliminary information I'll need for the seminar?"

"I'll get that to you before the beginning of next week," he said, sitting down and starting up his computer. "And your final next week." His voice was a sheer warning as his eyes darted towards you, dark and foreboding. You'd think you were talking about life and death rather than a fucking English test. "You know what my expectations of you are."

Jesus, how was he so _sexy_ talking about how he wanted you to study?

"Yeah," you scoffed. "Hopefully my grade won't make you rethink hiring me."

He didn't find that amusing.

"I'll see you this week for prep," you assured him.

He nodded sharply and turned back to his computer.

You nodded, and left. He didn't give you so much as a glance for a goodbye, but you couldn't fault him for that. Not during office hours.

Your one class of the day had you bored to tears, especially given the evening you'd just had. You'd spent the entire period gazing out the window and doodling in the margins of your notebook: hearts, flowers, flames. The things that represented how Kylo made you feel. You felt like a stupid teenager but he occupied your thoughts on a near-intrusive level, and anything to express all the things that you were forbidden from actually _telling_ anyone was an appreciated output.

You wished you could talk to Rose. Kylo was busy prepping for the final and grading the last essays of the term, so for a day or two at least, you tried to go easy on the communication with him.

More time for you to decompress after your almost-panic-attack in his office. You knew that a brief separation was probably beneficial, but it was hard to focus on what was best for you when the only thing you wanted were his hands squeezing your hips, running down your back, tightening around your throat.

You made it to Thursday before asking Rose to get coffee. It was something you would have delighted in anyway, but you knew that she was as busy preparing for her exams as you were for preparing for yours. It pained your heart to admit it, but the motivation behind seeing her was so you could attempt to not think about Kylo for two seconds at a time. And the kicker was, of course, that you wouldn't even be able to _tell_ her that. To tell her about _everything._ Every delicious night with him, every fear you had in your heart, every ounce of trouble you had just from being away from him for a day or two.

Thursday morning came around, and the two of you were seated outside at the campus café, coffees between you, bodies huddled together against the cool, sweet-smelling fall air.

For a while, the conversation was completely normal. She'd been agonizing over some engineering exam. Whatever the class was, you knew you wouldn't have been able to understand it if you tried. She was having a harder time than you were even aware, and you felt a twinge of guilt for not being there for her. Rose was incredibly ambitious, but her field of study was impossibly challenging. Honestly, you didn't know how she balanced it all.

You were grateful to hear her vent, but eventually, the conversation turned.

"So, why did Finn tell me that he could have sworn he saw you in Kylo Ren's car?"

Your heart leapt to your throat so aggressively you nearly choked on it, and you were this close from spewing your coffee out on the table. But as long as your expression didn't let on, you were fine. Or so you tried to remind yourself.

"Oh, that?" you asked, taking another sip of coffee to try and mask your discomfort. "Shit, I forgot to tell you. We had a meeting, he asked me to be the TA for his lecture next term."

"[Y/N]! That's awesome! I can't believe you didn't tell me!" she exclaimed, leaning towards and knitting her brows together.

"No, I know, it's a great opportunity, I just...I don't know. It didn't seem like that big a deal."

"Of _course_ it's a big deal. Think about it. If he likes you, he could set you up with a job once you're out of here!"

You grinned, biting back the bile rising in your throat. "Let's hope he likes me," you said, raising your coffee cup.

Seeing Rose was good. Better than good. You'd missed her, and you missed when the term hadn't been so busy. When finals were over and you were all back from break, things would be back to normal. With the exception of the fact that you'd be TAing for the professor you were sleeping with.

 _Shit- Kylo,_ you suddenly remembered. It was Thursday, and you still hadn't set up a time to review the final. He was so busy, and you were so paranoid about giving him his space that you'd forgotten about setting up a time to meet with him, and now the week was almost over. Cursing, you pulled out your phone, remembering that oh, yeah, you were sleeping with him, so why not just do it at his place over the weekend?

But the first thing you saw on your screen was a missed call and a voicemail--from Kylo.

You furrowed your brow. This was unlike him. Calling...it was unlike him. Usually, he would bark orders via text and that was always sufficient. It looked like you'd missed him while you were getting coffee with Rose. Eagerly, you pressed play and lifted the phone to your ear.

"[Y/N]. It's me." You heart clenched at Kylo's voice, and clenched harder when he paused for a few moments. "I'm going to have to leave town for the rest of the week. Through the weekend, actually," he continued. "I know this isn't ideal. And that you wanted more time to review with me." Another brief pause. "But you're going to be fine. I promise. And if you'd like to start your TA duties early, I would appreciate it if you would conduct a review with the class on Friday. Keep them off my hide for having to miss the last class before finals," he grumbled bitterly. You furrowed your brow. A professor missing the last class before finals...it wasn't a good look. And Kylo didn't sound happy. At all. Biting the inside of your cheek, your mind began spiraling, fearing the worst.

But then his voice softened, and you felt lighter. "I know I said I'd be there. I'm sorry" _I'm sorry._ You didn't think you'd ever heard the man say those words. You were pretty sure you never would again.

"But you'll be fine. Trust me. I won't be available for a while, not by phone, but if anything comes up...email me."

A click, and then he was gone. You furrowed your brow again, staring at the empty screen of your phone. If anything comes up...and then a pause. You silently cursed yourself for half-expecting him to have said something affectionate. But that would hardly be like him at all. A text would suffice. You waited a while, of course, trying not to seem to needy. You considered making yourself wait an hour to text, but then you figured that he'd tried to call you twenty minutes ago, so you might as well do it now: _safe travels._ _hope everything's ok!_

You sent the message standing mindlessly on the sidewalk outside the café. And then there was nothing to do but go home and prepare for the hellfire of next week and Kylo Ren's gargantuan expectations of you-- and you were on your own.


	11. Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your breath caught on the way into your lungs. Your entire frame stiffened as you felt his hand slowly slide upward, teasing just under your buttock. Sucking your lower lip into your mouth, you chewed on it nervously. His fingers trailed lightly on your sensitive skin, and suddenly, you became very aware of the hallway just outside of his office, mere feet away from where you were standing, separated only by an unlocked door. You heard a muffled voice from down the corridor outside, and soberingly remembered that you and Kylo were anything but alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just outlined the next THIRTEEN CHAPTERS!!! Y’all….it’s gonna get ugly. Also, note that she used to call him Ren and now she calls him Kylo. Maybe eventually she’ll call him Ben. But not today.

Waiting to see Kylo again was like holding your breath for five straight days, complete with the feeling of impending death. It shouldn't have been this hard, you tried to remind yourself. You and Kylo, whatever you were, had a connection. Had some sort of _link._ But that didn't mean that you were defined in whatever you were. You weren't his girlfriend; you couldn't just text and ask him if he was okay, not without the risk of him telling you to back off, that you had no place to be checking in on him like you were dating. You never knew when you'd cross an emotional line with Kylo, and it kept you on your toes and constantly afraid of "overstepping."

You weren't his girlfriend. But you were _something._ Figuring out what exactly that was... _that_ was the challenge.

You were _dying_ to know why he'd left town on such short notice. Why he'd seemed so exasperated in the voicemail he'd left you. Christ, you must have listened to that message upwards of a hundred times over the course of the weekend, lying face-up on your bed with your feet up against the wall, exasperated, _exhausted_ , trying to make sense of the tiny threads of emotion in his voice. You'd gotten spoiled, you supposed, and you'd gotten your hopes up. Getting to spend time with him at his house, getting to sleep in his bed. Holding him while he slept. You had been looking forward to getting to do it again that having the option ripped away from you for the entire weekend was giving you a _major_ case of something akin to FOMO, but way more depressing.

At _least_ the email he'd sent to the class gave you some answers, even if just barely. He'd written it briefly, and given the timeline, likely while he was at the airport.

_Good evening, class. I'm writing to inform you that regrettably, due to a family emergency, I will have to miss class on Friday. Your classmate [Y/N] has been hired by the English Department as my TA for next semester and has agreed to lead a review session on Friday. I assure you all that you will be in good hands for the final exam essay, which take place on Tuesday as scheduled. However, I will take into account my absence while grading, and will also extend office hours on Monday and Tuesday. Thank you all for your understanding._

" _Hired by the English Department..."_ Smart. Keeping them off your scent if anything seemed awry, you figured. Letting them think that he hadn't hand-picked you. But he _did._ And that knowledge was safe with you. And made you light up from the inside.

He'd chosen _you._ And _only_ you.

But as far as the "family emergency" went...well, it made you feel guilty for being so peeved at him for not texting back, that was for sure. All you knew was that Kylo wasn't generally on speaking terms with his family, and hadn't been for years. That was the extent of his opening up to you in regards to his past. And your own stalker-homework had revealed that his parents were world-famous philanthropists from whom he'd been estranged since teendom.

And that he walked away from that life forever.

You furrowed your brow as you considered this. Not even the death of his father was enough to make him move back home, or enough to make his mother move to Boston to be with _him._ And now he was jetting off to attend to his "family emergency." If the death of a parent wasn't enough to make him budge before, then what could possibly be bad enough to make him hop on a plane at a moment's notice?

You shuddered at the thought. You couldn't help fearing for the worse, but figured at the same time that it was best that he was there, even if it wouldn't be easy for him.

When you finally _did_ get to see Kylo again, it was hardly the moment you'd been waiting for. You all gathered for the final exam on Tuesday morning. On one hand, you were incredibly nervous; you had three hours to write a perfectly polished eight-page paper. And on the other hand, you'd be seeing Kylo for the first time in over a week.

You sat in your usual seat, staring at the door, all the oxygen in your body stuck to the back of your throat as you waited for him to walk through it.

And he finally did.

If you'd been breathing before, you would have stopped then. Seeing him made your whole body clench and flutter. As he stepped through the door, his eyes instantly snapped to yours, and it made you feel like you could shatter completely under the weight of his gaze. And then, after just a moment of bliss, his eyes tore away from you, regarding the rest of the class, maintaining his composure.

He didn't so much as look at you when you shut off your laptop, but sent you a very professional email not ten minutes after you left to come help him grade exactly at five-o-clock. It was enough time for you to grab an early dinner before doing a 180 and heading back to Holdo Hall, this time to his all-too familiar office on the top floor.

"Okay, so, which one's mine, though?" you prodded for the umpteenth time.

Kylo ignored you, narrowed amber-colored eyes glued to Derek Klivian's essay. He'd read it three times already, and had already marked it to hell with his red pen. "Quiet," he murmured flatly, eyes not budging from the paper. "Yours is next."

Derek's paper was only five pages. It was supposed to be eight. And yours was _ten._

After what seemed like a small eternity, Kylo finally wrote a whopping _72 percent_ on the top of Derek's paper. You weren't sure if that made you feel cocky or incredibly nervous. It was impossible to navigate your own feelings when Kylo mostly just made you feel like your organs were swimming freely inside of your body.

Agonizingly nervous, you held your breath as he flipped through your essay. His eyes narrowed as he counted the pages, and gave it a lengthy preliminary skim. He cleared his throat before speaking, and your stomach did a somersault deep in your gut.

"I assigned eight pages for this essay. What makes you think I have the time or interest to read ten?" His lips pursed ever so slightly, Kylo turned to look at you, his eyes so scrutinizing under his glasses that they practically burned a red, flaming hole in your face.

You felt your jaw unhinge, and quickly attempted to gather yourself when you realized you looked like a complete fool. "Please, just- I promise it's worth the read."

You stood over his shoulder as he flipped to the first page and began reading. Every mark of his pen was a slash through your nervous stomach, and every time he underlined something and wrote "good," in the margins set your heart on fire. You chewed the inside of your cheek as he read, marking as he went, and by page three, you were getting too antsy, so you decided to step away.

This final was everything. Not only were you a junior in a grad-level course. But this paper would determine your standing in the English Departments. Scholarships, awards, and recognitions were on the line. Plus, if it flopped, what if Kylo took away your TA position next semester?

You were staring at his framed graduate school certificate on the wall, _trying_ to find the damned thing super interesting for the sake of distraction when he finally opened his mouth. You ripped your gaze away from the frame as soon as you heard him inhale.

"There was a typo."

"Liar."

"It was minor. And just one. I'm not docking points." Kylo removed his glasses. He considered your form carefully, eyes narrowed. You couldn't tell if he found you attractive, if he just wanted to watch you be terrified, or if he found you incredibly annoying and insufferable. Probably a mix of the three. "And it could have been more concise."

"But-"

"Everything you wrote was good. You extended beyond the question, and I found it very insightful. But it could have been a page shorter. Your conclusion was too repetitive."

"But the _point_ of a conclusion is t-"

"It's a 96."

You swallowed thickly, feeling your brows twitch together and your neck retract in confusion. "What?"

"Ninety-six percent. I docked three points for making me read the same sentence three times."

A smile cracked onto your frozen features, and you didn't even worry about the other one percent. You exhaled sharply, _finally_ feeling the relief you were hoping for. "For real?" you puffed. "And that's because it was _that good,_ not because we..."

"It's that good." he said. Was that a _smile_ on his lips?

"Who did the best in the class?" you demanded.

"I'm not quite done grading yet." He said, leaning back in his office chair and pondering the small stack of papers left on his desk. "But so far, you're ahead." You tried to hold back a squeal, and failed. "Congratulations," he said. He _was_ smiling! A tiny, barely-there, _adorable_ grin tugged on the corner of his lips and lit up your insides like an ember. "As my TA next semester, you'll be helping me grade these," he reminded you. "Come back over here. You need to learn how to do this," he said, voice low and dark, as he beckoned you with two fingers.

You didn't even try to hide your grin as you walked back over to his desk. Positioning yourself to stand just off of his left shoulder, you looked down at the next essay that laid before him on the desk. Kylo picked up his pen, holding it in his right hand, and positioned the tip at the start of the first paragraph, ready to catch every single mistake that could possibly be found.

"Read," he instructed, the word slicing from his tongue and landing pointedly in your ears.

You nodded stiffly, shocked at the sudden darkness in his voice, eyes flashing towards him just before you began to read. The moment your gaze hit the first words on the page, you twitched as you felt a large, strong hand on the back of your thigh underneath the hem of your skirt.

Your breath caught on the way into your lungs. Your entire frame stiffened as you felt his hand slowly slide upward, teasing just under your buttock. Sucking your lower lip into your mouth, you chewed on it nervously. His fingers trailed lightly on your sensitive skin, and suddenly, you became very aware of the hallway just outside of his office, mere feet away from where you were standing, separated only by an unlocked door. You heard a muffled voice from down the corridor outside, and soberingly remembered that you and Kylo were _anything_ but alone.

Sparks. His fingers slid over the center of your panties, trailing along your covered sex. Your eyes fluttered shut and you gripped the edge of his desk, bracing for the impact.

"Open your eyes," he murmured.

You exhaled, breath shuddering, and his fingers dipped into your panties, pushing them aside with the smallest movement. You opened your eyes, mewling softly, and kept reading.

"That's a good girl," he murmured as he saw your gaze fall back onto the page. You whimpered, white-knuckling the desk. Slowly, he began to rub deliberate, torturous circles over your clit, causing your whole body to wrack with deep trembles. He smirked, and you heard him hum in approval. "Keep working," he ordered.

Brow knitting with fear and agony and nervousness and _pleasure,_ you kept your eyes glued to the page, not daring to look at him as he worked his fingers against you, though you could _feel_ the heat of his gaze on your skin as if it was a physical part of him.

Suddenly, Kylo dropped the pen in front of you and sat back in his chair, his free hand perching on the sides of his chin and cheek, supported by his fingers, as he considered you curiously. Deliberately. From behind the desk, his other hand was working against your cunt.

"Grade," he said. "Correct it. Mark your revisions so the words sound adequate."

You tried to swallow and practically choked. You moved, your hand visibly trembling as it dipped down to grasp the pen between shaky fingers. It fumbled in your hand, eliciting a low, dark chuckle from Kylo.

You could do this. You cleared your throat, feeling a coat of sweat beginning to form on your forehead, the back of your neck. You began, or _tried_ to begin, to read in earnest. To focus. But with every roll of Kylo's rough fingers, you realized that the sentence your eyes had just glossed over hadn't been retained. You wracked your brain, desperate to concentrate, but you were fighting a losing battle.

You caught a typo in line four. Okay, not off to a great start, but it was good for you. You sliced through the misspelled word, but the line you drew looked more like a wave. You cursed your uncontrollably trembling fingers, and you could practically _feel_ Kylo smirking at you.

"Good" he muttered, andplunged two fingers into your pussy.

You gasped and dropped the pen, your knees buckling violently underneath you, threatening to give way at any moment.

His fingers were coated in your wetness in an instant. He widened them inside of you, stretching you out and eliciting a deep and tortured moan from your throat.

"Pick it up," he instructed. You whimpered, knees bending as you pushed down against his hand. "Pick. It. Up," Kylo ordered. You could tell from the tone of his voice that he wouldn't ask a third time.

You snatched up the pen, fumbling with it again, nearly knocking it to the floor this time. You wrapped your fingers tightly around it as Kylo's thrust upwards into your pussy, your hot, wet walls squeezing and fluttering around them.

Your brain was screaming, and you wanted to give into the dizziness and chaos. But a deep, warning thrust from Kylo reminded you to keep grading.

You whimpered again, leaning further against the table to try and find a position that made it easier to stay standing. You were shocked that you hadn't yet collapsed altogether. You clenched your teeth, continuing to make your best effort in proofreading.

But Kylo was picking up the pace, his fingers curled deep inside of you. And one sudden burst of warmth in your lower belly told you that he'd found _exactly_ the right spot. You gasped, perching forward on the tabletop, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, desperate that someone would walk by and see you through the thin albeit tall windows on the sides of Kylo's office door.

Your fingernails dug into the desk, audibly scraping against the mahogany. You pulsed your hips slightly, finding rhythm against Kylo's fingers as they continued to fuck you closer to your orgasm. You hummed in agony as you continued reading, making marks here and there, mostly reading for typos, unable to fully immerse yourself in the reading like he wanted you to. Using your brain when he had you like this, fingers plunging into your dripping cunt, waves of dark desire rolling off of him, was _impossible._

"Kylo," you whimpered, your voice small and pitiful.

He said nothing, but he began working faster, indicating that he was heeding your warning, driving you further and further to your release. Finger-fucking you harder.

" _Fuck,"_ you squeaked, voice a broken whisper.

"You like this, don't you?" he asked you darkly. "You like getting finger-fucked by your professor. Don't you." It wasn't a question.

" _Hmmm,"_ you breathed, chest heaving.

He shushed you, voice gentle, but somehow condescending. And you _hated_ how much you loved it. "You don't want them all to hear you, do you? You don't want them to know what a little _slut_ you are." You whimpered, throwing your head back. "Oh, you are," he murmured, unleashing a burst of lust deep inside of your chest.

You clenched the pen in your hand. " _Fuck, Kylo, baby,_ " you mewled weakly, dropping your head forward again, internally regretting the use of a pet-name as soon as you said it. Kylo wouldn't approve of that sort of thing. But even if it bothered him, he seemed to allow it just this once. Heat was spreading throughout your entire center and your pussy clenched and flittered. Kylo kept working, inching you towards release.

You were so close. Overwhelming warmth bloomed against your chest and neck, breaking you out into a disgraceful rash of flushed, heated skin. You were just seconds away from your orgasm when you saw her. In horror, you watched a professor walk straight by Kylo's office through the window. You held your breath in your throat as you watched her move by, her attention buried into the screen of her phone. She didn't look. Didn't see you. She just kept walking. And you didn't stop. Couldn't stop. Even if she had seen you, in a moment like this, you couldn't be sure that you would have had the strength.

" _Oh my god,"_ were the last sad little words off of your shameful lips as he brought you to your peak. Your knees buckled violently, causing both your legs to shake as you came. You heard the slurping of your own wetness against his fingers as you worked to hold back your scream, catching it in your throat and swallowing it down, deep, as you reveled in the unbelievable, hot pleasure.

Squeezing the pen in your hand, it snapped under the tension of your fingers, and you paid it no mind. You just pulsed your hips, riding out your pleasure, eyes clamped shut, upper body hovering above the desk. You began to stumble down from your high, hips rolling, rolling, slowly, until you were finally spent.

You exhaled, a burst of air finally releasing from your lungs as your eyes fluttered open. You swallowed and choked, coughing, trying to catch your breath as you stared down at the mess before you.

Spilled, angry, red ink stained your right palm, like blood. You looked whatever poor student's essay you'd been attempting to grade, watching the redness bleed onto the paper, right in the middle of the sea of words.

You gathered yourself for several seconds, leveling your breath, smoothing down your hair with the hand that wasn't ink-stained. You could feel the thin layer of sweat on your face, and could feel your face throbbing with blood. You probably looked like you'd just run a half-marathon.

You heard the powdery sound of fingers snatching up tissues. He cleaned himself up before softly dabbing the insides of your thighs. Your eyes fluttered shut all over again as you buzzed underneath his touch, turning around and balancing yourself on the edge of the desk, gripping the wood on either side of you.

"You did well," he murmured, snaking his hand to wrap softly around your thigh.

You couldn't even look at him. You felt so shameful. So dirty. And you _loved_ it. You would have hopped on his lap and ridden him right there if you could have.

"You'll come to my house tonight," he instructed you. Finally, you turned to face him, your expression one of disbelief. "And we'll finish this then."


	12. When I'm Done With You (Part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you know what I do to whores who pretend they can handle this cock?” He breathed, teeth catching your earlobe and dragging down the skin. You hummed in response, head leading back against the wall. Just then, you felt the hand around your jaw tighten. “I make sure they can’t walk for a week when I’m done with them.” He released your jaw with a shove, causing your head to drop to the side from the impact. You gasped, jaw hanging loose, your breathing labored and shallow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR 400 KUDOS!!!!! I am so grateful to each and every one of you, and special thanks to all of you amazing commenters. The comments you leave absolutely make my day and bring me more happiness than you know. THANK YOU!!!
> 
> So, here we are. This chapter took SO LONG because, well, it’s just really fucking long. And believe it or not, 4,000 words isn’t enough. I’ve decided to split this chapter into 2, which I didn’t want to do because I do think it fucks up the flow a little, but I had to cut myself off. It was just getting to long. However!!! The next part will hopefully be up tomorrow night!!
> 
> Guys this chapter (and the second part) are really filthy. Heavy plot development coming soon. I’M SORRY FOR EVERYTHING.
> 
> Also, all of these chapter titles sound like bad perfume names.

Your body had been aching for Kylo ever since you'd left his office, which was _not_ the way you should have felt. He'd made you cum. Hell, the man could practically bring you to orgasm with the blink of an eye. But by the time you got back to your room, you were itching for more. _This_ was what he did to you; you envisioned his face, his voice, the words he used to heighten your pleasure, to insight fear and bliss, inexplicably, all at once. It wasn't that he hadn't given you enough. It was that he'd given you _everything._ Because of him, you had tasted... _everything_.

And now, you couldn't live without it.

Lately, you were constantly aroused. With the memories of what he'd done to you fresh in your mind, it was impossible not to be. In the moment, taking his cock was almost too much. But now, in the moments when you were separated, even if only for a brief amount of time, you needed _more._

Kylo had made it clear that you'd be joining him again later, but that for the time being, he had some things to finish taking care of at the office. You'd practically whined in protest when he'd told you, and not just for your own pleasure. You ached to have his cock in your mouth again. Something about the way it filled you made you dizzy just thinking about it.

So, you headed back to your dorm, flopping down onto your bed the second you stepped into your room and shrugged your bookbag off your shoulder.

Instinctively, your hand dove in between your legs. But before you could touch yourself, you froze.

Later. You would still see him again later.

And then—just like he'd told you before, that night in his office when he'd taken your mouth around his cock without pleasuring you in return— _then,_ it would be perfect.

Groaning, you pushed yourself off the bed. You had to go out and do something while you waited, or you'd drive yourself insane. Shaking your head and smoothing down your hair, you closed your eyes and tried your best to clear your mind.

It had been enough time to get dinner and get a head start on packing your things for winter break. Honestly, you hadn't really thought about the weight of having to leave just as you were finally starting to make strides with Kylo. So much of your attention was given to him, and any left over was thrust into frantically preparing for all your finals. Now that they were all over, you were left with the sudden realization that you were leaving for a month in a matter of days. Would tonight be the last night you saw Kylo until you came back after New Year's?

Your stomach rolled as you began pacing your room, picking out your favorite bras, underwear, tee-shirts, and jeans, and throwing them in a duffle bag.

You were lost in thought when you finally heard your phone buzz. You practically dove for it, heart skipping several beats when your eyes fell on a payment for an uber. He was still hesitant to involve his driver, which was likely for the best. _No one_ could see you enter or exit his house.

The excuse of being his TA would only get you so far.

You quickly snatched up a tote bag, throwing in a fresh pair of socks and underwear before shoving yourself out of your room to snatch up your toiletries from the bathroom, still dressed in your skirt and sweater from earlier that day.

Exiting the bathroom, you stopped dead in your tracks. Rose stood in the doorway of her bedroom at the other end of your suite, watching you practically _sprint_ out the door with an overnight bag under your arm.

"Hey." She said, brow furrowing slightly.

"Hey." You said, trying to cover the swallow that choked in your throat with an aura of inauthentic confidence.

She quirked a brow at you, eyes flashing towards the bag.

"Tinder date." You answered, hoping that you sounded—and looked—casual...and inconspicuous.

The silence that laid flat and heavy in between you seemed to stretch on for eternity. But just when you'd decided that she was onto you, she nodded, told you to be safe and to make sure you said goodbye before you left for the holiday.

With a twinge of guilt twisting in your stomach, you returned the sentiment, and ran for your exit.

You didn't realize that it had been raining before you stepped outside for your ride. You waited for the driver with your bag covering your head and ducked inside as soon as it pulled up. Sitting into the plush seat, nothing was on your mind but Kylo, and with every stretch of road that shrunk behind you in the rearview mirror, you grew more and more anxious to see him, its peak hitting you as you stepped out of the car and onto the sidewalk in front of his towering brownstone home. You listened to the low roar of the engine as the car drove away, leaving you alone and in the darkness. You let the fading sound ground you.

Your stomach was still in knots. Seeing Kylo more regularly didn't make it easier. The man just made you _nervous._ He incited a certain degree of fear in all of his students. And surprisingly, you weren't an exception. You still found him just as intimidating.

But you were different. Because you also found him _thrilling._ You took one step up his front porch.

 _Dark_. Another step.

And above all, _dangerous._

Kylo yanked the door open before you could even lift your fist to knock. Completely shocked to see him so suddenly, to be so abruptly standing in his menacing shadow, you had to crane your neck upwards to look him in the eye at this proximity.

His eyes were dark and swimming with severity and hunger. He'd been waiting for you. He eyed you like a predator before slowly opening the door wider for you to step through. You slipped inside, timidly, suddenly feeling like you were being hunted. Stalked. You wanted to jump him. You kept your arms clenched at your sides to prevent yourself from encircling him within them, testing your own resistance.

But you knew that as soon as he touched you, you'd be melted putty in his hands.

You could feel his burning gaze drinking you in as if he wanted to engulf you completely, swallow your timidity. And you _weren't_ timid, not truly.

But standing before Kylo Ren felt akin to standing before the Lord of the Underworld.

But when he was looking at you like this, you weren't sure if he wanted to defile you or beat you up. Knowing Kylo, it was likely a combination of the two.

But why wasn't he saying anything? You lifted your gaze as he circled you like a beast, watching him make his rounds, raising your chin in dignified defiance. He wanted you.

It was undeniable.

"I've been thinking about you," he finally said. His voice sounded like gravel, and made you feel cold.

Your stomach did a 180-degree-flip, and you tried not to flinch. _And I never stop thinking about you,_ you somehow kept yourself from blurting.

"You impressed me today," he added when you held your tongue. "You were such a good girl for me." He took a step forward, his fingers lifting to trail down a strand of your hair and roll it in between his fingertips. "And _so_ bad."

You melted. You felt your cunt clench and then flutter before your hands were on him, yanking him against you as if his proximity was your very lifeblood. Your lips finally, _finally_ came together. His tongue dove into your mouth to battle with your own, sliding against it in a wet heat. You sucked in air through your nose, the sudden exasperation of such a forceful kiss knocking the oxygen out of your lungs completely. Suddenly, Kylo was moving, legs pushing you backwards until your back hit the front door. He pressed you against the wood, his broad chest flush with yours. Hungry and desperate, your lips molded to him to deepen the kiss, your tongue prematurely venturing from your mouth in an eager attempt to taste him, hands holding yourself against his thigh to grind against.

But Kylo pulled away just enough for you to see his brow knit together in curiosity. His hand remained cupped to your cheek as he searched your face. "You're desperate," he observed, voice a contemplative murmur. "Why?" His eyes seemed to darken as he drank in your features: your lips parted from heavy, desperate breaths, your pleading eyes wide and glued to his flawless, beautiful face.

"I need you," you whimpered, seizing him by the beltloops and pulling yourself closer against his towering frame.

"After what I did for you earlier," he murmured, eyes brow raising in pejorative disbelief, "you still need me?"

Chewing on your lower lip, you felt a flush rise to your cheeks, staining you with shame. No man had ever made you feel the way Kylo made you feel—so full of pleasure and ecstasy that it was somehow never enough. And it wasn't because he didn't leave you satisfied. He left you _more_ than satisfied. He left you trembling and dripping, lips kiss-swollen and body wracking with violent trembles and shaking limbs, unable to take another agonizing inch of his cock. And even so, you couldn't stay away from him. He made you drunk, and all you wanted to do was keep drinking. You didn't know what had possessed you, what had been awoken inside of you. But once you'd tasted it, it— _he—_ was impossible to quit.

He watched your expression melt into one of shame and want, and he inhaled sharply in response. His lips dove to your ear and he inhaled deeply again, breathing in your desperation. Lips trailed your earlobe, making you tremble and drip with want. You could hear his soft, labored breaths. It was music to your ears.

As gentle as the movements were at your ear and curve of your neck, you felt a suddenly jolt of pressure as his hand rose to clasp your jaw. Not a drop of gentleness was left in his touch—only tension and hardness.

Control.

"You're a needy slut," he muttered against the skin of your neck, his words low and evenly paced. He wasn't just _saying_ it. He was _telling_ you. His words landed hard against your ears. And they ignited you.

He was so close that you could feel the hardness of his crotch pressing against your own middle.

"Do you know what I do to whores who pretend they can handle this cock?" he breathed, teeth catching your earlobe and dragging down the skin. You hummed in response, head leading back against the wall. Just then, you felt the hand around your jaw tighten. "I make sure they can't walk for a week when I'm done with them." He released your jaw with a shove, causing your head to drop to the side from the impact. You gasped, jaw hanging loose, your breathing labored and shallow.

He chuckled at your struggle to keep afloat when you were drowning in lust. "Greedy slut wants to cum again," he growled. "I'll make sure you're too wrecked to ask for it a second time."

Your hands searched his face before snaking through his loose raven locks and yanking. He groaned at the pain, but the way he shuddered against you told you everything you needed to know. Hunger. Delight. _More._

His lips left yours, leaving you desperate for their return. Tenderlessly, he kicked your feet apart, forcing your legs wider. The agony dissipated when you felt his lips at your neck. His hands snaked over your middle as he worked his way downward before sinking to his knees. His hands raked up your thighs, the hem of your skirt lifting under his touch, exposing nearly the whole length of your legs. His eyes flickered up to meet yours and in a moment of dark realization, you stopped breathing altogether.

All you could do was brace yourself against the steady wood of the door behind you. Because Kylo began kissing your thigh, his head dipping underneath your skirt. And you were gone.

His kiss was tender. You rolled your head against the back of the door, savoring the touch you'd been craving for hours but desperate for release. You focused on your breathing, eyes fluttered shut, as gentle lips caressed your inner thighs.

But in an instant, you felt his teeth sink into the same spot. A yelp bubbled from your lips and a hand when down to sink into his hair, yanking onto his locks for leverage.

Kylo looked up at you with unforgiving eyes, all sense of gentleness gone. He was _playing_ you. And you couldn't trust him. The darkness in his eyes said it all--there'd be no gentleness for you tonight.

"Slut wants to cum again. Then I'll make her cum." There was a clear sense of warning in his voice, one that you didn't linger on for long because _fuck,_ you wanted him. _Needed him._ In the same instant, Kylo yanked down your panties, nails scratching against your skin on the way down your legs as he dipped his head under your skirt.

You'd never felt a sensation like this before. He kissed your pussy, tongue diving against your folds, lips puckering against your swollen nub. Your shoulder blades pressed against the wood of the door, hips jutted slightly forward, eager to feel him hot against your core. The pace of your breath began to quicken the instant you felt his tongue find rhythm.

You moaned through tightly-pressed lips, the grip you had on his hair refusing to loosen. It was like there was fire in your veins, every muscle tense and desperate as you struggled to keep yourself standing on two feet.

Your head dropped forward to watch him work underneath you. You snaked a hand through his hair as he pulled away momentarily, taking a moment to admire your glistening folds. His hands moved up to seize your hips, bunches of your skirt gathered in his palms to keep you exposed before him. You released a shuddering exhale at the sight of him, moaning deeply as he moved back in, his mouth open and determined to have you unravel around it.

The sound of his lips sucking and then releasing your folds, the wet sounds of his working tongue was already skyrocketing you dangerously close to release. Hair hung down your shoulders, beginning to stick to your forehead and neck with a thin layer of sweat. You lost control of your breathing, loud, heavy moans escaping your lips. Your hips found a slow rhythm, rolling slightly against him in search for more friction.

Kylo slid his tongue back and forth over your clit, working expertly but unforgivingly. Each instant that passed wracked another ounce of roughness and desperation from his attacking mouth. His fingers dug into your hips, hard enough to leave welts, you were sure.

With each dart of his tongue against your pussy, you moaned louder, more urgently. Any sense of control you possessed was dripping out of you, lost for good. You jaw hung open as you became fully stripped of your modestly and willingness to try and maintain control over yourself. You groaned, the sound long and profane, drawing a growl from Kylo in response, the sound reverberating against your center, the vibrations igniting you.

You hummed in pleasure and in desperation for release. "Kylo," you mewled, eyes fluttering shut, head hitting the back of the door with a smacking sound. You rolled your hips more urgently against him. The movements of his tongue had lost any method or technique. The man was wild, his tongue working unforgivingly and fervently, darting against your folds in wet, messy strokes.

"Kylo, I'm so close," you cried, feeling the warm beginnings of release blooming within your body.

He growled again, one hand moving swiftly between your legs.

You felt his fingers penetrate your opening as he shoved them knuckle-deep inside of you. " _Fuck!"_ you screamed. Kylo pumped them ruthlessly inside of your cunt. You were already drenched with wetness, and the added sound his soaked, rapidly-moving fingers was an added layer of overwhelming pleasure.

You felt your velvety walls clench around him as he finger-fucked you to release. Another particularly broad stroke of his tongue, and you came undone.

" _Kylo, I'm gonna- FUCK!"_ you screamed, head pressed into the back of the door and back arching as your orgasm ripped through your muscles and wracked you with the familiar, deep tremors that Kylo always tore out of you. Expletives, _filth,_ tumbled from your lips as he licked and finger-fucked you through your peak, not losing speed, and not showing you any mercy.

Your back arched, you lifted yourself up on your toes as you came.

"Fuck! Kylo, _fuck yes that's so good, fuckmejustlikethatohmyfuckinggod, youfuckmesofuckinggood."_ The words began as a scream, and decrescendoed into a pitiful whimper through clenched teeth, and at the end of your orgasm, you felt your knees buckle and give out; Kylo seized you by the hips with both broad hands, his steadying grip the only thing keeping you from collapse.

Your chest heaved, and you panted, open-mouth, loud, moaning heavy breaths as you tried to steady your breathing. He let you get your grips for a few moments, just long enough for you to be able to stand on your own, but soon, his face was in front of yours, hand seizing your jaw.

Two fingers pressed against your lower lip. You looked in his eyes, and they were dark and dangerous. You stared into him as his fingers breached your lips unexpectedly. You whimpered as he forced them into your mouth, and with two wicked, dark words, he gave you his command: " _Suck, whore."_

You groaned as you opened up for them, sucking your wetness off of him, nose scrunching slightly at the taste. This was absolutely filthy--you'd never done _anything_ like this before. Your life had been filled with relatively infrequent and modest, vanilla sex. You never _dreamed_ of doing anything that resembled what you were doing now, with Kylo.

And you never dreamed of liking it so much.

You sucked back on his fingers as he pressed down on your tongue, and gagged slightly as he forced them deeper. The taste...you weren't sure why, but you always imagined it wouldn't taste...like this. There was always a fear in the back of your mind that the taste of your womanhood wouldn't be desirable. But even to you, it was...interesting. And not in a bad way. It was a strange sensation, tasting yourself, but in the back of your mind, you also knew that Kylo was leading you down a wicked path. And the things that you would learn, the things that he would have you do...they would open a world of possibilities.

"Good girl," he murmured, eyes glued to your lips as you sucked his fingers free of your wetness. He watched you intently, silently reveling in the gurgling sounds from the back of your throat as he gagged you, delighting in your struggle. When he was satisfied, he pulled himself free. You kept your lips tightly around his fingers as they slid out of your mouth. You coughed and sputtered when you were free, but Kylo didn't give you a moment to recover.

Kylo, seizing your wrist with an unforgiving grip, spun you both around and yanked you against him, your back pressing into his chest. His hands roamed the length of your torso, lifting your breasts in his hands and fondling them roughly as his lips found your neck.

"Bedroom," he muttered roughly against your ear, before releasing you and giving you a shove towards the steps.

You gulped, beginning your ascent to the third floor. As you walked up the stairs, you found the courage to place your hand on the railing and look over your shoulder at him.

His gaze on you was practically threatening. It was as if his aura was a dark cloud, the mere look in his eyes bracing you with a deep understanding of what was to come. What he was going to do to you. You gulped, igniting with fear and undeniable excitement.

Kylo wasted no time when you reached his bedroom. The second you stepped inside the room that you'd only been in one other time, he'd seized your elbows in his hands and pinned them behind your back. You gasped sharply, your entire body rolling with deep breaths as his lips teased the skin of your ear.

"Do you remember what I said I do to whores who think they can take my cock?" Kylo leaned in to whisper the words.

You shifted where you stood, your back writhing against his stomach, but gave him a nod when he gave your arms a rough and alarming tug.

"Then you know what I'm going to do to you," he muttered darkly.

You felt your blood spike in your body. You were afraid. And you were excited. This was what you asked for—more of Kylo. And this was your chance to prove you could handle it.

"I want you to strip," he muttered hotly, the words falling into the crescent of your neck. He yanked his hands, restraining your arms even tighter behind your back. You cried out at the pain, but the breathiness of the sound indicated something else. Something darker, something you were almost ashamed to admit, to give in to. The muscles of your biceps screamed in pain. You arched your back, writhing against him to find a more forgiving angle. He moved you like a puppet, ensuring that you stayed tight and stuck against him, ensuring that it _hurt_.

"I want you on my bed. On your hands and knees."


	13. When I'm Done With You (Part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs deeply*  
> *edits tags*

"I want you on my bed. On your hands and knees."

You shuddered as his grip on your arms finally loosened. Your arms dropped slowly to your sides as you took a step forward and turned around to face him. Reaching behind yourself, you unzipped your skirt and slowly pushed the fabric down the sides of your thighs. You stared at his face as he watched you. His jaw was clenched as his eyes followed the fabric down the supple skin of your legs. He swallowed thickly as you stepped out of the skirt and kicked it to the side. Crossing your arms at your waist, you then brought your sweater up your ribcage and above your head. You kept your movements slow, giving him a bit of a show—not so much to be a tease but not so little as to rob him of the pleasure of watching you. You held back a smirk as you watched him revel your nearly-bare body, your modesty covered only by a bra and underwear.

You reached behind yourself to unclasp your bra. It tumbled from your chest and down to the floor, leaving you bare and exposed. Next, you hooked your thumbs into the waistband of your panties, dragging them torturously down your thighs, maintain eye contract with him as you bent forward to do so. You saw the muscles in Kylo's jaw tense even more tightly. He flinched, as if he was about to take a step forward, to punish you for being a tease. But you weren't disobeying him; he stood still the moment you turned around and crawled onto his bed, propping yourself on your hands and knees.

Suddenly, you didn't feel like teasing. Positioned like this, you felt vulnerable. And that vulnerability opened the floodgates for fear. You swallowed thickly as you heard Kylo approach—slowly. Listening, you tracked the sounds of his footprints around the room, resisting the urge to look over your shoulder.

You could hear him— _sense,_ him, even—stalking behind you at the foot of the bed, pacing behind you to admire every indecent angle of your indecently-positioned body. You could hear the sound of his breathing. You could hear that the sounds of his inhales and exhales were even and controlled. But so close to tipping over the edge-- almost _too_ controlled. So close to collapsing, to abandoning sense and restraint.

Your breath caught in your throat as he rounded the side of the bed and climbed behind you. You felt the buzz of his warmth just as his fingers barely-skimmed the skin of your ass. He rolled the flesh beneath his palm.

You heard the smack of skin before you felt the pain. And the scream tumbled from your lips before you even knew you were going to cry out in the first place. You felt the buzzing of a handprint blooming into a red mark on the skin of your left ass cheek. It still wasn't enough time to brace yourself for the next spank. Kylo brought his hand down on the same cheek, stacking one layer of pain on top of the previous. Within the same instant, he brought his hand upwards on the right before bringing it down from the top. You cried out again. The sound of three smacks fell upon your ears in rapid succession, loud enough to fill every corner of the bedroom. The force of the impact was enough to tell you he was exerting energy. But you were quickly learning that Kylo wasn't the type of lover that would ever go easy on you.

You released a sob, arms trembling as you tried to remain sturdy. Your head dropped downward, hair trailing the duvet cover. You thought that he liked the sound...the sound of you deep in pleasure, but also in pain. Any indication that you were breaking underneath his touch.

He pressed his palm to the round of your ass, already tender from his brutal handiwork.

"This is exactly how I want to see you." Kylo said, voice dripping with authority and command. "Wet and eager. Desperate for my cock. Still so innocent," he contemplated softly, almost to himself, running his hand down the curve of your back. "So confident you can take me. All of me. Stupid girl," he sneered. Your stomach dropped. He was so...cruel. Cruel, but rousing. You silently cursed at the wetness you felt pooling inside of your cunt, mounting with overwhelming arousal all over again. You wondered if, with Kylo in your life, it would ever stop.

Eager and desperate, you writhed your hips against him, earning you a tight grip around your hair. Kylo yanked you upward by your locks and you cried at the pain, but your hands still found his hips from behind you, holding yourself against him. You felt his hardness against the back of your ass, and you whimpered in desperation.

"Beg for it, if you're so desperate," he spat harshly against your ear. "I'd like to see you try and handle the fuck I'm going to give you."

You whimpered in response. You'd never begged for anything. You wanted to give Kylo everything he wanted. But when he asked for something like this...you just didn't know _how._

He chuckled darkly at the soft, whimpering mewls that escaped your lips, feeling their vibrations reverberate at your throat as his palm laced calmly around it.

He gave you a moment. When you didn't respond, he tightened his grip, jolting you against him.

"P-please," you whispered.

He chuckled again, the fingers of his free hand stroking your hair. The gentleness of the gesture put you on edge. "I've heard that filthy mouth of yours beg me to make you cum before, when I have you so, _so_ close," he muttered, voice soft and breathy against your ear. In an instant, it turned steely and cold. "Don't pretend you're something you're not. A filthy slut with a filthy mouth," he spat.

When you were on the brink of orgasm, it was different. It was easy to shriek out your deepest desires when you were blacked out, possessed by an unfamiliar, animalistic side of yourself that you were only recently coming to recognize. You were connected with that person now. All you had to do was search within yourself for what you wanted. All you had to do was reach out and touch and.

Name it.

"Kylo, please," you groaned. You were reaching back, reaching for _him_ , nails digging into the sides of his thighs. "Please, you're all I want. I want you inside me. I _need_ it."

"You. Need. What?" Kylo's voice was barely above a devilish whisper, each word hitting you like a smack.

"I need your cock," you cried, finally letting yourself go, letting yourself cry out for him in the desperation that you felt and could no longer conceal.

You groaned as Kylo dropped the grip on your hair, and you flopped forward, catching yourself as your palms hit the mattress.

Kylo suddenly yanked at your waist and scooted you back to align your hips against his. It should have been enough warning, but you were never truly ready to take his insultingly large member. Before you could process what was happening, Kylo was fully hilted in your pussy, shoving himself mercilessly inside you with a deep, drawn-out growl. That sound—it indicated a man starved. An image in your mind flickered: earlier that day, in his office. You wondered if he'd been painfully hard all day, thinking about how he'd finger-fucked you behind his desk. You hoped he had. You hoped he wanted you so badly that it ached.

Kylo pulled out slowly, dragging cock out of your pussy at a glacial pace. Slow enough for you to feel every painful length of his cock stretch your cunt and become slick with your arousal. You hissed in pain; at first penetration, the sheer size of him was always just too much to accommodate.

You closed your eyes, focusing on adjusting to his width. But without warning, Kylo snapped his hips forward. You cried out again, the sound mixing with the excruciatingly loud smack of his hips against your ass. He groaned once more, the sound gravelly and rough as it ripped from his throat. Once again, hearing it kindled you with exhilaration and lust. To hear Kylo lose control was one of the most beautiful experiences you could name. It had to be the eighth wonder of the fucking world.

You pressed your lips tightly together and moaned as Kylo found a brutal pace. Even though he was stretching you more than what seemed feasible for your tight cunt to handle, the pleasure you felt was undeniable. Immediate warmth flooded your core, striking you as deep as Kylo's cock. And he didn't hold back his own arousal. He moaned depravedly, cursing as he watched your ass bounce against his hips.

With each thrust, you heard the unforgiving smack of skin. He pulled all the way out just to slam back inside of you, forcing you to take every inch of his length. You could feel how deep he was, the pressure settling in your lower belly. But your mewls and whimpers and moans didn't stop him. On the contrary, Kylo fucked you harder, his fingers digging into your skin as he white-knuckled your hipbones. The marks you would have in the morning...you couldn't even _imagine._

But the thought of Kylo leaving secret marks on your skin, marks to savor, marks that would be a reminder of the obscene things he was doing to you tonight...you wanted him to hold you tight enough to leave welts forever.

"Tighter," you begged. " _Harder, hold me harder."_

"Needy little slut," he hissed, pressing his digits harder against your skin and giving you a particularly deep thrust. You screamed in response, drawing a breathy, animalistic laugh from Kylo as he continued to pound you relentlessly. Dipping his arm down, he wrapped it around your neck and yanked you upwards. With a failed gasped that caught in your compressed windpipe, you arched the middle of your back, your shoulder blades pressed against his upper abdomen as he held you in a chokehold and continued to snap his hips against you, driving his cock ceaselessly, _ruthlessly_ into your cunt.

" _Yes,"_ he hissed into your ear. You moaned, choking on the sound that caught in your tightened throat. The pleasure was as real as the fear and intensity. You felt your wetness begin to seep down the backs of your thighs. And of course, nothing was lost on Kylo. "Fuck, look at you. Dripping for me already." Kylo's free hand moved to your chest, fondling your breasts roughly as he continued to fuck you. He gripped your tits tightly, rolling both of them tenderlessly in his large hands, handling them with such force that you were positive they would bruise too, and the possibility delighted you. "Always such a--- _mmmhmm, fuck—_ needy whore for me. _Fuck! Say it!"_

He loosened the grip on your neck, just slightly, so you could answer his request. As soon as the slightest amount of air could escape your throat, you groaned, open-mouthed and uproariously.

" _Say it_!" he roared, raising his palm in front of your face and snapping it back towards you, landing a rough smack to the side of your cheek. Your head whipped to the side and you could have sworn you felt another wave of liquid arousal roll down the backs of your thighs.

"I'm a needy whore," you sobbed, eyes squeezing shut, breaths labored and heavy, your chest heaving. " _I'm a whore for your cock_."

Satisfied and snickering through the loosening reigns of his control, Kylo's hand moved from your throat to your clit. "You want to cum again, then so be it," he said, echoing his warning from earlier.

Kylo's fingers worked rapid circles around your clit as he expertly rammed his cock into your pussy, thrusts still even and unforgivingly rapid and deep. His fingers pressed _hard_ onto your swollen clit. With the arousal already mounted inside of you, you knew you would soon be a lost cause.

You moaned as Kylo continued his thrusts. You were woozy and lightheaded, your cunt and clit aching from the roughness of it all.

Kylo Ren was pounding you into oblivion.

His lips were at your ear, almost bringing you back to the surface of reality. "Do you want to cum?" he hissed, undoubtedly chasing his own release by now.

"Yes! Yes, please, Kylo, make me cum."

Satisfied, Kylo bit into the skin of your neck before drawing away, dragging his tongue over the angrily blooming redness where his teeth had assaulted your skin. "Fine. Cum for me, whore." He ordered.

Everything crashed.

Your whole world shattered as Kylo's impossibly rapid fingers drew your release, tearing it from your bones and smashing it against the walls. The back of your head leaning up against his chest, you let yourself scream but you didn't hear the sound. You lost yourself in total darkness, seeing, feeling, hearing _nothing_ but the sharp, overwhelming pleasure overtaking your body, mind, and soul.

A mounting, uncomfortable pain drew you from your stupor. When you came to, you were crumpled forward on the mattress, your ass still high in the air as Kylo continued to fuck you to his _own_ release. His hand, you realized quickly, was still working torturous motions over your cunt. As soon as you could move again, you twisted and winced, crying out in defiance.

"Kylo, stop!" you cried. "I ca-I can't!"

"Yes, you can," he snapped mercilessly.

Your second orgasm of the night was hanging in the air, the aftermath of its tremors still vibrating against your clit. And Kylo was overworking it now, the overstimulation agony against your sensitive nerves.

Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, your body a vessel for his pleasure. Your cunt, still being brutalized with his thrusts, was impossibly wet.

" _Kylo_ ," you moaned writhing underneath him, desperate to escape the pressure.

" _Yes,"_ he said, watching your futile attempts to reach for release, for escape. "Fuck, you look...oh _fuck."_

You moaned, the sound breaking on its way out. You felt his cock twitch inside you, and you knew—you _knew_.

Kylo's cock buried deep inside of as thick ropes of cum laced the inside of your pussy. He roared through his orgasm, erratic thrusts milking every last drop of his cum and emptying it inside your wet, used, brutalized cunt. You were still collapsed on your chest, face pushed into the mattress as he worked every last second of pleasure. You listened to the labored, gravely breathing that settled in his chest as he came down from his high. For a few moments, he was silent. Watching you. Looking at the beautiful mess he'd made. You lay beneath him, spent and overstimulated, and finally, _finally,_ tired and satisfied enough to rest.

That was when you felt his hands at your hips once more.

You yelped as he yanked you up and flipped you around, tossing you on your back with your head against his pillows. He swung his leg over your waist to straddle you from above, eyes glued to your own. He was still breathing heavily, clearly tired and spent.

But the darkness in his expression made it entirely clear that he still wasn't done with you.

You felt his cum dripping out of you as he lowered himself on top of you, hand dipping towards your cunt.

"Kylo. Kylo, I can't!" you whined, wriggling underneath his weight.

"One more."

"I can't!"

"You can," he said darkly, eyes narrowing as they held your gaze

You quickly found yourself lost in hiseyes. It was just you and him. The only two people left on the planet, as far as you were concerned.

You exhaled through wet, kiss-swollen lips as his fingers found your cunt, sliding inside, feeling the mess that he'd made inside you. He smirked, thumb rolling over your clit. You winced in pain when he made contact. You could already feel the bruising from two rough orgasms. Your body was so spent and worn and sore that you almost doubted you had another one in you.

The sound of Kylo's fingers sloshing in both of your cum mixed inside your cunt was enough to make you optimistic. Tilting your chin upwards, you moaned. His touch was gentle now, finally, and it felt amazing. Peaceful. He worked his fingers in and out of you slowly, thumb giving you slow, deliberate rolls.

"Kylo," you whimpered. " _Yes. So fucking good_."

He hummed in response, eyes taking in your naked body as he worked you through your pleasure. His eyes skimmed your face, one of your cheeks red and angry from where he'd slapped you, before moving to your neck, the skin red and inflamed from his bitemark and handprints. Your breasts and hips had suffered the same fate, splattered with hot fingerprints. "That's a good girl," he murmured, eyes glued to your fucked-out body as his fingers worked you.

With each passing moment, Kylo increased the pace. Your breath hitched in your throat as you bucked your hips up towards his working fingers. "Still so eager for me," he breathed, smirking.

You moaned, lips parting. Somehow, inexplicably, you were already close.

Kylo watched the pleasure mount on your face and began to thrust his fingers deeper and work his thumb more roughly. You felt the twinge of your sore clit and groaned in pain. But the pleasure didn't subside. You whimpered, still feeling the overstimulation but unable to deny the obvious pleasure that would soon hold you hostage. You whimpered his name again as you felt yourself growing increasingly warm, your muscles tight.

"One more," he said again, wide eyes staring intently down at you.

Your third orgasm hit unexpectedly. Erratic jolts and stinging pleasure rolled through your blood. Your hips bucked upwards as your wetness drenched his fingers as they worked madly to pull you through your peak. You ached. You burned. You were _floating._ You heard yourself crying out and couldn't stop yourself. Your body came down from its high and so did your mind, growing foggy and clouded.

He'd _wrecked_ you. Just as he said he would. You lay practically lifeless on his mattress, whimpering as your fingers reached for any part of him just to pull him close.

You couldn't find him. You were blind and lost. Collapsed. Spent, wet, and brutalized, you felt yourself sinking deeper and deeper into the mattress with each pulse that throbbed in your reddened cheeks. Somewhere, you heard Kylo whisper your name. "Such a good girl." Had you imagined it?

No. The last thing you felt before drifting off to sleep was a kiss to your forehead and blankets tucking around your shoulder, an arm around your waist.


	14. A Better Son/Daughter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo sighed, the tension leaving his muscles as he did. With lips slightly pursed, he examined you in silence. His palm found the side of your cheek and settled there gently, making your skin buzz and tingle as it brushed lightly against you. 
> 
> “If I ever want to discuss my childhood, I’ll tell you. Don’t be so presumptuous to assume that I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good evening, readers! In the midst of all the craziness happening in the world right now due to the pandemic, I just wanted to say in case any of you are scared, concerned, or anxious like me, that everything will be ok! I am so grateful for all your kudos and the amazing and completely unexpected response to this dumb story. Just know that I'm grateful for you, I'm thinking of you, and if this provides you the slightest bit of relief, comfort, or distraction, then that would make me smile. Just read, relax, and enjoy!
> 
> UPDATE: Just a heads up that you can ignore if you’re new because it’s already been changed: instead of a y/n being sophomore, she’s now a junior. I wanted her to be especially impressive for her age in taking higher level courses, but also not have to do a huge, massive time jump. Also I thought about a professor sleeping with a sophomore and it made me feel yucky. Thank you for reading, and enjoy!!!

You were dreaming when he woke you up. The touch of his fingers against your cheek pulled you straight out of a deep, vision-filled sleep and back into reality. The image had just been there, whatever scene in your imagination just having been playing fresh in your mind moments before, like a TV that had just been shut off. Except you couldn't remember exactly what you saw.

You knew Kylo was there. He always was. And you remember happiness. Warmth. You remembered speaking with him, but whatever words were shared were long gone, floating further and further away as you tried to grasp your memory with invisible fingers, watching it slip through until it was gone.

Your eyes opened into thin slits, squinting as you tried to adjust them to the low light. A hand was pressed to your cheek.

It was Kylo. He was everywhere: there in your dreams, and again there next to you, in real life, when he pulled you out of them and back to earth. He hovered above you, propped on his elbow, giving you light strokes until you were finally awake and staring back at him.

"I'm sorry," you breathed, the memories of that night flooding back into your brain all at once. "I completely passed out on you." You blushed and attempted to sit up, wincing as your muscles groaned in pain the moment you moved. You laid back down, and wondered how long you'd been out.

Kylo took notice, his hand moving protectively to your shoulder, and he eyed you with caution. You could barely make it out under the darkness of the room. Maybe you didn't see it at all, and it was just something that you felt. Something you could sense. "Are you alright?" His voice was earnest. His hand slid slowly down your arm, touch gentle, a strange juxtaposition after the way he handled you so roughly just a few hours before.

"I feel like I've been hit by a bus, but in a good way," you said, grinning softly. And then, suddenly, you wondered why he'd woken you up. You thought that things were developing between you and Kylo. You'd slept over before, so you didn't think twice about staying over this time. But maybe you should have. Suddenly feeling ill at the thought that you might have overstayed your welcome, you panicked. "Should I go?" You tried to sit up again, this time, your neck aching as you craned it to look at him.

"No, no," he said quickly, gently guiding you back down with the hand still on your shoulder. "No." Kylo's hand moved to stroke your hair, causing your eyes to flutter shut at the blissful sensation of his fingers lightly grazing your scalp. "Stay. Please. I just...I couldn't sleep. Didn't feel like lying here alone."

Your eyes opened, and you searched his face. It was as stoic and unfaltering as always. But his eyes gave him away, no matter how statuesque he kept himself. They were somber. Not sad, exactly, but full of contemplation. Full of questions.

It wasn't lost on you, though you didn't pretend that you weren't scared to ask. Leaning into the fear, accepting it, you pressed a hand to his cheek, drawing him closer.

"What is it?" you whispered.

Kylo's gaze was cast off to the side, but he settled into your touch, tolerating it at the very least. "We haven't talked about why I was gone."

You exhaled softly, giving his cheekbone a gentle stroke. "I guess I figured that if you wanted me to know, you'd tell me. And that if you didn't, I'd give it a day or two before I started prodding."

Kylo chuckled solemnly, the corner of his mouth lifting into half a smile. "Would you?"

"I would." You nodded sincerely, lifting your brows and staring openly into his eyes so he knew it was true. "I feel like you just got back. Between the final, and the grading, and tonight, we haven't had half a second to talk about anything else."

He sighed, mindlessly fumbling with the bed-tousled locks of your hair, unresponsive.

"It's your family, isn't it?"

"My mother" he hummed lowly.

You leaned up onto your elbow, directing his gaze towards you with the hand on his cheek. Finally, his eyes met yours. Your heart ballooned with sadness as you stared and absorbed who, _what_ he was. He looked at you with tired, brown eyes, sleep-disheveled black waves that hung to his jaw. In the darkness, you couldn't see, but you knew that he had circles under his eyes.

He was _so young._ Not even thirty years old. And yet so much hung on his shoulders—so much responsibility. Your eyes savored his beautiful features, and felt your heart break for him.

He was just a boy—a boy who had grown up too fast in a cruel world.

You resisted the urge to lean in and kiss him. To shower him with the love and affection that he'd been missing for half his life. You knew that was what made him they way he was now: unable to let himself love. Cold, and distant. He wasn't a cruel man. But he'd sealed himself away a long time ago, and shut everyone else out.

But this wasn't the time for kissing, as much as you wanted it to be. You stroked his hair lightly, hoping your touch was enough. "But she's alright?"

He sighed, turning away and holding himself up on propped forearms, staring at the ceiling. "She had a heart attack."

Bewildered, you sat straight up, no longer noticing the pain in your sore muscles. " _What_?"

He tilted his head to look back at you. "It's not the first one she's had. She developed a heart condition a couple years ago," he muttered.

"Kylo..."

"Trust me, it'll take more than two heart attacks to put her out of commission," he scoffed. And just then, his voice almost softened. "She's the strongest woman I've ever known."

You sighed, the air falling softly from your nose and hugging the air between you. Crossing your legs, you placed your hands in your lap, fidgeting nervously with your fingers. "What's her name?" you asked quietly.

Kylo's brows knit together as he turned to look at you. His eyes swam with confusion, perplexity. His lips barely parted, he stared at you for a brief moment before his tired, gravely voice softly responded. "Leia."

 _That was it._ You'd _seen_ her name before—first on the letter that you'd seen on his desk, and again after you'd found that picture of him in the article about his parents. It was so much to take in, and at the time, you were so laser-focused on Kylo and _only_ Kylo, that you didn't remember the name of his parents.

You weren't sure if Kylo was completely in the mood to open up to you, but you were grateful that he'd started nonetheless. You couldn't help but smile, losing the fight against the corners of your lips that lifted upward as your heart filled with warmth. You'd always imagined Kylo as a lone wolf because, well, he was. It was hard to imagine that he had a family out there-- _somewhere_. Now there was a name to the woman who'd raised him.

And then lost him.

"I remember now. I read about her," you admitted. "And your father."

Kylo huffed. At least you'd gotten him to open up for a moment. Even as you felt him shutting down again, his walls rebuilding themselves, it was progress. "I'm sure you have," he said, not unlike a sneering ten-year-old, and laid back down, snatching the blankets up and over his shoulders, his eyes back to fixating on the ceiling above him as if it was the most interesting thing in the world.

Jesus Christ, he was a professor for God's sake, but somehow, he was practically a _child._

"You grew up too fast, didn't you?" you blurted before you could stop yourself. It wasn't as if you'd already come to that conclusion long before, but saying it out loud, for the first time—Kylo's head snapped towards your direction so quickly, you were _sure_ you were a dead woman.

"I don't remember asking you to analyze my personal life," he snapped venomously.

"You're the one who taught me everything I know about interpretation and analyzation," you reminded him.

"And maybe you should keep it to your books."

You blinked in shock, stunned by his sudden hostility. Christ, the man could turn on a dime, and you didn't know why you expected anything different. "Who's the one who woke me up, asking why we hadn't talked about what happened between you and your family over the weekend?"

He huffed again, placing his hands behind his head, arms bent at the elbows. Expressionless, he averted your gaze, staring lifelessly at the chandelier that hung above your heads. "Perhaps you should look into becoming a therapist."

"Perhaps you should look into therapy," you quipped quickly in response.

Kylo had closed the distance between you before you could blink. Perhaps you didn't fully see him sit up under the heavy weight of the darkness, or perhaps he was so quick that you'd missed it. But before you could take a full breath, his face was in front of yours, separated by mere inches. You inhaled sharply, breath hitching on its way into your lungs, the force of the air scratching your throat. In this proximity, you could make him out, just so. His jaw was clenched, almost trembling, lips slightly curled. Hot air huffed out of his nose, like an angry bull, and his eyes— _coldness_. A coldness that you knew all too well.

"I was willing to talk about what transpired over the last few days," Kylo told you, voice dripping with anger. "There's a line to what I'm willing to discuss, and how. _You_ crossed it." The words spat furiously and unequivocally from his mouth, leaving no room for argument or debate.

You felt your lip tremble as you took shaky inhales through your nose. You felt your teeth clench together in fear so hard that it was impossible to breathe regularly. Every muscle in your body was tense, and his harsh words caused your heart to drop to your stomach. You could have burst into tears then and there. You _would_ have, if you hadn't willed yourself so aggressively to stay firm and grounded. He couldn't scare you. He couldn't treat you like he was indifferent towards you. Internally, you reminded himself that he'd opened up to you already, and that couldn't be taken back. Acting callous or cruel when he _wanted_ to take it back was a defense mechanism. It _had_ to be.

Why else was he so impetuously abrupt and indecisive?

You lifted your chin, a small indication of the dignity and courage you refused to release, even as they battered at their cages, desperate to be free and wisp away into the night, leaving you alone. You held fast onto them, needing them now more than ever.

"My dad's had cancer twice," you told him. His eyes twitched, and you half expected him to blink, but his face was frozen. He looked like a statue, magnificent and angular. He could have been carved by Michelangelo or Donatello; even when he was this angry, he was still so beautiful. "He had it first when I was in high school. He recovered, but it came back my freshmen year of college. My mom...I love her, but we don't get along like my dad and I do," you admitted. "He's the one person in the world that I don't think I can live without." Your voice dropped to a whisper. You felt the familiar swell of emotion blooming in your chest, the tightness in your throat, and you fought the sensation.

"I almost didn't finish out my first year of college," you continued. "Sometimes I don't know what I'm still doing here. In Boston. And I think about the fact that...that I'm moving here. After college. And eventually, on to New York, if I'm lucky. I always knew that my life would take me away from my hometown, and it was never a discussion with my parents. I wonder every day if my purpose lies with _them_ instead _._ If I'm selfish for starting a life for myself so far away from them. Especially with my dad and his track record. Half the time, I feel like a horrible person," you whispered.

"But they supported and embraced the path my life was taking. Never asking me to come home, but figuring out how they were going to help me conquer my future. All the time, I wonder if I'm a bad daughter. But the thing about good parents is that they're always there to support us, whether they agree with the choices we're making or not. And they're always there to forgive us."

You watched as the hardness in his eyes faltered, but didn't break. Something in him softened, however, his muscles relaxing, jaw slowly untensing. Just barely, his eyelids twitched, as if he was keeping himself from blinking. His lashes fluttered like the wings of a moth, but he didn't let himself draw out of the intoxicating bond you shared as both stared intently into the other's eyes.

"I understand you more than you think I do," you whispered, gentle but firm. "We don't have to unpack that tonight. I know I'm your student, but we're more similar than you know. We're separated by seven years, not a lifetime. I may be younger than you, but I'm old for my age. And you're young for a professor," you pointed out with a small smile, twinges of lightness and warmth in your eyes. You hoped that they reached him.

Finally, you sensed the resolute anger in Kylo give way. His body relaxed, and his eyes turned gentle again, or whatever was akin to gentleness in a person like Kylo. Eyes that were blank and distant, mysterious and impenetrable, eyes that you loved, and eyes that hurt your heart because you knew that was the best they could be. But impenetrability and distance were better than anger and darkness, if only by a small stretch.

Kylo sighed, the tension leaving his muscles as he did. With lips slightly pursed, he examined you in silence. His palm found the side of your cheek and settled there gently, making your skin buzz and tingle as it brushed lightly against you. And after what felt like a lifetime of waiting, he finally spoke.

"If I ever want to discuss my childhood, I'll tell you. Don't be so presumptuous to assume that I do." With that, Kylo retracted his hand and laid back down, turning on his side, one arm stretched underneath his pillows. He settled within the blankets until he was still and soon, his breathing was even and steady.

The coldness of his words had shocked you. You sat there, cross-legged next to him, for some time, the weight of his words—or rather, his warning—giving you pause and much to contemplate. You felt your heart freeze and shatter, feeling so sad and rejected that it rendered you unable to move. You didn't know how long you sat there for, waiting for the ice to leave your veins, waiting for the sting of his words to dissolve. Eventually, it did. And when the time came, you finally settled next to him, keeping a wide berth between your bodies, hugging your side of his bed.

You were quickly asleep, as far away from Kylo as you could possibly be in the confines of his bed, black sheets smooth and comforting against your skin. You slept well, considering, and could have sworn, at some point in the night, that you still woke up to a heavy, muscled arm slung around your waist, and a rough hand resting on your stomach.

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

The next morning, you found Kylo as you did the last time you'd spent the night at his house: reading a book at the kitchen counter and drinking a cup of coffee. He straightened his back when you descended the stairs and walked into the kitchen, one of his button-down shirts hanging loosely on your comparatively smaller frame, the hem brushing the middle of your thighs and the cuffs covering your hands completely. You hugged your middle protectively; your conversation last night hadn't ended the way you would have liked. But such was the reality of being with Kylo. Of being with _anyone..._ but especially Kylo. As he looked at you pointedly through the frames of his overpriced glasses, you held your breath. And air of awkward silence lay between you in the vastness of the sunlit kitchen, representing the uncertainty of whether or not you were still fighting.

You only noticed the second coffee mug on the counter next to Kylo when he wrapped his hand around the handle, pushing it towards you.

So it was to be a truce, then.

You grinned softly, you heart flooding with warmth and your lungs finally filling with air, now that you could remember how to breathe. You closed the distance between you, stepping to the side of the island opposite him. You picked up the mug with both hands, letting it warm your palms through the thin fabric of his shirt. You inhaled deeply, savoring the smell, allowing it to refresh your tired senses.

"You slept well?"

Your eyes lifted to meet his over the rim of your mug. Humming gratefully as you took your first sip, you nodded. "I did," you replied simply, still cautious of crossing another _line._

He nodded too, closing his book and placing both hands on the counter, his attention fully directed towards you. You gave him a soft smile, hoping he knew that you accepted the truce, but didn't approve of the need to censor yourself.

"You leave today?" he asked, when you didn't elaborate further.

"Tonight. I should actually go soon," you pondered unhappily. "I promised Rose we'd catch up before I go."

"Long drive?"

"Yes, but I'm flying."

He nodded slowly, holding your gaze. "You must be excited to go home."

"I'm excited to see my family. I miss them." You wished you could take back the words as soon as they'd left your lips and hung open in the air. For a moment, you froze, fearful that he would take your answer as a swipe towards what happened last night.

But perhaps you hadn't given Kylo enough credit. He nodded again, this time in response, eyes falling back to his coffee mug. "I'm sure you do," he replied. As he took a deep swig of coffee, you felt a twinge of sadness for the man. You were sure that he wished he was close enough with his family to miss them.

"Sad to leave you," you admitted in a small voice, setting your mug on the counter and warming your palms on the sides. You raised a pair of docile eyes to meet his, not sure of what to expect.

Kylo exhaled softly, crossing the island to stand in front of you. Two strong hands lifted to the sides of your face, the backs of his fingertips brushing your cheeks.

"I think you can manage a few weeks without me," he murmured, one corner of his lips twitching upwards. Almost a smile.

"I'm not so sure." Your voice dropped to a whisper, and you stared gingerly back at him.

With that, Kylo dipped down, his lips lowering to press against yours. You lifted yourself on your toes, fingers curling to ball the collar of his shirt gently into your fists.

This, this was enough. This made it all worth it. The way he made you feel in the morning, when there was nothing but a good book, the scent of fresh coffee, sunlight, and him. You molded your lips against his, inhaling the air you both were breathing, savoring the feeling of his muscular arms holding you against him.

When he finally pulled away, he looked down at you tenderly, brushing away stray strands of your hair. "Everything will be the way it should when you come back."

As much as you wanted to stay, you knew you had to leave. You tried not to get emotional as Kylo showed you to the front door once you were all packed up; the last thing you needed was to give him a reaction to leaving each other for weeks that he couldn't meet. So you settled on just giving him a small smile, squeezing his hand as he opened the door for you. And then it occurred to you that he would likely be alone for Christmas. Your heart crushed in your chest, and he noticed the realization as it lay plain on your face.

"Don't be sad," he told you. "I'll be here when you get back."

You didn't have the heart to tell him that it wasn't you that you were worried about anymore. Chewing the insides of your cheek, you nodded, and allowed him to pull you in for one last hug. You closed your eyes as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder and gave you an affectionate squeeze.

Making your way down the steps of his home was easier said than done. Once you reached the sidewalk, you turned back to Kylo, who stood above you at the top of the steps. You gazed at him, savoring the man you would be separated from for the next few weeks. "Have a good Christmas, Kylo," you offered. You truly hoped that he would. You sighed, turning away to hail your ride. It was only a few weeks. And with that, you left Kylo standing in the frame of the front door to an empty house—alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it would be really disrespectful to kill off Leia in this fic. We will see what happens. I would love to avoid it.


	15. Face in the Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Bold of you to assume the position hasn’t been filled by now,” Bazine said, giving him a small shrug and lifting her wine glass back up to her lips. 
> 
> “Oh, I’m sure it’s been filled. But I know that it’s not filled by your ideal candidate.”
> 
> “And how is that, pray tell?” She mimped.
> 
> “Because I’m not the one filling it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bitches have decided that Bazine Netal is the designated fanfiction villain because she was a sexy bounty hunter TFA for about 2 seconds. I’m bitches. 
> 
> I was this close to cutting the facetime chat. Throwing you guys some fluff. Say goodbye to her, she's taking a vacation for a while after this.
> 
> Also CHRISTMAS IN MARCH!!!!

There was nothing like being home for the holidays and taking a step away from everything you were working on at school. It was a more than needed respite from stress and the crippling pressure of building your entire future. It was a cliché, but this had always been your favorite time of year by a landslide, if not just for the mental break you always needed at this point in school.

So why was it so hard to be home?

Two words: Kylo Ren. _That_ much was obvious. Whether it was the missing him or the fear of losing him was another matter entirely to be debated in your already overwhelmed mind.

You missed him, of course. You missed the shockwaves he could send through your skin without touching you. You missed being ravished and pleasured until you couldn't possibly take any more. You missed the feeling of his lips against yours, the feeling of his angular face nuzzling into the curve of your neck.

But fear was proving to be even more powerful.

Lately, you were more secure in your connection with Kylo than ever before, but that still wasn't saying much. It was hard to be confident in the feelings of a man who went to maddening lengths to keep his life a mystery, to block out _anyone_ who wanted in. You were confident in the fact that he liked you. But what did that mean in a man like Kylo?

" _I'm not a man easily satisfied,"_ he'd once told you in the dark confines of his office. You remembered every single detail about that moment. How the moonlight whisped through the window and reflected off the blackness of his eyes, nearly making them glow. The tension of his strong muscles, veins bulging from the soft skin of his forearms, sleeves pushed slackly up to his elbows. The memory you had in your mind was perfectly clear: the vision of a man who was tired and _hungry._ He'd looked at you the way that he'd looked at you time and time again even since then. Like you were a prisoner, his prey, and it captivated you.

And for the first time in your life, you didn't want to be free.

_I'm not a man easily satisfied._

What did that mean, if you had to go away for a while? What did than mean, if you left him alone? Instantly, the image of the woman you'd seen on his arm at the speakeasy just a week or two prior stripped your mind until it was the only memory standing. Her stunning dark eyes, black hair, like waves of pooling ink, even her _lips_ a deep, intoxicating burgundy—midnight features on a blindingly white, iridescent canvas.

Like Megan Fucking Fox.

Of course, there was also the brief and fleeting memory of Kylo calmly attempting to explain that they were just friends. But you weren't so sure that Kylo could even _have_ friends. Not with women who looked like sex icons, considering the needs the man had in the bedroom.

Constantly feeling like you weren't allowed to bother him was frustrating beyond words. It was cruel and unfair for him to string you along. But then, you finally considered how he would react if you slept with someone else while you were involved with him.

He would murder you.

So, that was _something_ , you decided, and finally gave into the desire to text him.

If admitting you missed him and checking in on him _one time_ made you needy, or too attached for Kylo's taste, then maybe you should reconsider your attachment to him, you decided, pretending you had the willpower to leave him if it came to that to justify breaking his unspoken rules of being too affectionate.

To your surprise, however, the second you picked up your phone to text him, it began to buzz in your hand before you could even open the lock screen. Your jaw fell slack as Kylo's name appeared across the top with a request to facetime. Swallowing deeply to fight the urge of vomiting up the heart that had leapt into your throat, you closed your door behind you and sat down on your bed before swiping to accept the call.

"Hey," you said, cheerfulness blazoning through your voice.

"Hey." He looked so uncomplicated like this—a heather gray t-shirt, tousled hair, glowing skin, and a tired smile. He looked like an almost-happy man. You could have _screamed_ from adoring him so much. Another word came to the back of your mind, something stronger than _adore,_ but you shoved it away as quickly as it flickered before you.

"I was literally just about to call you."

"Were you?"

"Yes. I miss you."

"I miss you too."

So there it was. Kylo Ren actually _missed_ you. You didn't know which was more notable—the fact that he missed you, or the fact that he so openly admitted it.

You stared at him, agape, before your face broke into a glowing, glistening smile.

"How's your family?" Kylo asked.

"It's good. They're good," you corrected yourself quickly. "Everyone is good here. We're having big family Christmas tomorrow, and then real Christmas is just my parents and me. Do you...um...have any plans for Christmas?" you asked, trying to gain intel on the situation with his family without pushing it. You didn't need a repeat of your disastrous conversation from your last night together.

"My mother always invites me home for the holidays," Kylo admitted, averting his gaze downward, large, eyes expressionless.

"Do you ever consider going?"

Kylo looked back up at you with a small, solemn smile. "That's a long and complicated story for another time." Picking himself up from the couch, Kylo began to walk. You recognized his living room as it shrunk behind him as he continued down the hall to the kitchen. "Are you excited to come back?"

"You have no idea," you admitted with a scoff.

"Is being away from me so agonizing?"

"I don't know. How's being away from me?"

"Well, I don't love it, if you must know."

You grinned.

Kylo cocked his head. "Raise your phone."

You did so.

"That's a nice top," he murmured suggestively.

Playfully, you pulled down the hem, exposing more of your cleavage.

Staring at you with a speculative glint in his wicked eyes, Kylo hummed in approval. "Excited to have that back in my house; that's for sure," he murmured with a smirk, pulling down a box of cereal from one of his kitchen shelves.

"Fuck," Kylo muttered, glancing at his screen at the sound of a notification. He frowned. "Babe, I have to take this. Text me later, okay? Bye."

Without waiting for a response, Kylo was reduced to a blank screen before you could say goodbye. And when you placed your phone gingerly in your lap, you noticed that you weren't breathing. Because of what he called you.

_Babe._

Your mind reeled with happiness and confusion all at once. On one hand, Kylo had broken his own unspoken rule of showing any form of affection. On the other, it complicated things. If he still didn't view you as _together,_ then what the hell did that make you?

You sat on your bed for some time, staring at the blank screen on your phone, trying to picture that his face was still there.

Knowing that even though you needed answers, you weren't going to get any from Kylo.

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

Kylo missed the girl more than he cared to admit. If he'd been asked a few mere weeks ago if he could ever see himself in the state he found himself in now, _carrying_ her with him, in his mind, with every step he took, every agonizing day away from her...well, how could he have even considered the possibility?

But now, his nights were sleepless. The left side of his bed empty. His thoughts were swimming in his mind, insatiable. _Loud._ Agonizing.

He'd made a mistake today. That stupid pet name he'd called her on the phone—it had just slipped out. It scared him how easily the word fell from his mouth, without so much as a forethought. He had to draw back now, to make it a point to create some distance. Not because he _wanted_ to, but because he couldn't have her confused about what they were. What they could never be.

He missed her. That's why he'd called her in the first place. It was torture—so long since seeing her face, hearing her soft, familiar voice. It was a weakness on his part. If he'd just resisted his feelings, he wouldn't be in the mess he was in now.

Kylo stared ahead through the windshield, the wetness on the pavement reflecting the moonlight and stars. Every beautiful piece of the world reminded him of her now. _Everything_ reminded him of her. He wasn't accustomed to feeling like this for anyone. Long ago, he'd had the capacity to care the way a son cared about his mother, his father, his friends. He'd buried that part of himself long ago, long before he had taken his lovers that he'd tried to care about too, only to fail.

He tried to focus. Tried to shake her out of his head, but she'd wrapped her long, slender fingers around his brain and made a nest there, nails burrowing into flesh and digging downwards. He saw her when he closed his eyes. When he stared out the window of his car. And he _missed_ her; that was perhaps the most foreign sensation of it all. He could no longer remember the last time he'd missed anyone.

Again, he tried to shake her away, but to no avail. Tonight...everything was staked on tonight. He had a purpose, a job to do. He couldn't risk ruining it all on account of a distracted mind. Tonight had the potential to change everything. He couldn't let anything stop it—not even _her_.

Dim lighting helped Kylo feel obscured by darkness. Though its purpose was to provide an atmosphere of romance and luxury, meeting with _this_ woman felt like a mistake. Like a crime. Something he had to hide from the world. As he brushed past the hostess and walked to the booth at the far end of the room, he felt grateful to be somewhat hidden. Still, Kylo kept his head low. Lower than usual, at least.

Meeting with Bazine felt like meeting with a mob boss. She was _that_ formidable. Infamous. Really, she was just a woman doing her job like anyone else. But Kylo was far too familiar with how she conducted her business.

There was a sour taste in Kylo's mouth, he noticed, as he sat down in the seat opposite Bazine. Her dark eyes flickered up to meet him as she raised her wine glass to her lips—she'd already bought the most expensive red on the menu to share between the two of them. Licking the deep, blood-colored nectar from her lower lip, she swallowed gratifyingly. She hummed softly at the rich taste, never tearing her eyes off of Kylo as she purred her approval.

Kylo didn't flinch.

"It's good to see you again, Kylo," she said, finally leaning back in her seat after a heavy silence. She folded her arms over her chest, not-so-subtly pushing up her breasts, cleavage rising dangerously in her low-cut blouse. Kylo resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Anyone who worked in academia or journalism in the city of Boston _knew_ Bazine Netal. Hell, Kylo himself was warned of her as a grad student. He remembered the first time he'd heard about her, how terrifying and sly and manipulative she was. Now, she was his colleague. And Kylo couldn't help but think that she _tried_ rather too hard.

Perhaps with that reputation, she didn't have a choice. And on a weaker man, perhaps it was effective.

"I was surprised that you chose such an upscale place for us to meet, what with your untimely exit when we met at the speakeasy. I suppose better here than there, if we want to avoid running into little girls, don't you think?" She quirked a brow.

Kylo's fist clenched under the table, balling at the side of his pants in a sudden micro-burst of anxiety. Within seconds, he pushed the feeling back down into if chest, deeper and deeper until it was gone.

"I'm not sure what you mean," Kylo said, picking up a menu and pretending to give it a thorough scan.

"I believe we were interrupted last time," Bazine complained flatly.

"Oh. That," Kylo said emotionlessly. "I ran into a student of mine who was rather ill, unfortunately. Couldn't hold her alcohol. She ended up leaving, if I remember correctly. I think I'll have the steak." Kylo neatly placed his menu at the end of the table, propping himself forward on his forearms, eyes meeting Netal. Without a _shred_ of unease.

"Better here, then," she responded, leaning forward. "Where we won't be interrupted by children."

"I agree."

Bazine smirked, before turning her attention to her own menu, eyes glazing down the page of $50+ entrees. "I have to admit, Kylo, I was surprised that you agreed to meet with me again. I thought my attempt to hire you was a lost cause. God knows why," she scoffed, "when you're practically handing a position at the Press on a silver platter."

"Can't two colleagues just meet? As friends?" Kylo narrowed his eyes, testing the waters.

Her eyes flickered up from the menu to meet his. Smirking again, she mimped, "Is that really why we're here?"

Tapping his fingers on the table, Kylo said nothing. He couldn't read her. Couldn't attempt the best approach. She could _crush_ him if he played his cards wrong.

"Why don't you just be direct with me, Kylo? I'm not a mind-reader, and I'm a very busy woman. Oh, look, they have seared salmon niçoise; how lovely." She set down her menu, meeting his gaze once again, taking him in fully.

"Fine," he said, tapping his fingers again. "You see right through me, Bazine. That's not why we're here."

"You're having second thoughts about turning down my offer?" Her voice was milky and smooth, wrapping like tendrils around Kylo's mind. He could certainly see what all the fuss was about, but unlike all the others, he remained unbothered.

"I am. I want the position." The declaration was enough to surprise Kylo himself. He'd already made the decision to meet with Bazine and tell her that he'd reconsidered, but this, verbalizing it—that was different.

"Bold of you to assume the position hasn't been filled by now," she said, giving him a small shrug and lifting her wine glass back up to her lips.

"Oh, I'm sure it's been filled. But I know that it's not filled by your ideal candidate."

"And how is that, pray tell?" She mimped.

"Because I'm not the one filling it."

Bazine's glass stopped at her lips, half-way tilted back. Once the moment had passed, she took another gulp. The moment the glass was lifted away, she pursed her lips. Contemplating. And then, after a moment, she finally spoke again. "Luckily for you, one of our staff is serving as interim editor in chief while we continue the search for our ideal candidate. We still haven't found anyone that compares to Kylo Ren," she admitted slowly.

"And you won't."

Bazine sighed, settling back in her seat. "You would be editor in chief for the Boston Press. The largest press in the city. And one of the most profitable in the nation. Right now, you're a professor. Are you ready to make that change?" she asked, eyeing him.

"You didn't have any doubts about my abilities when you offered me the position before. You shouldn't have any now," he said, shaking his head.

She clicked her tongue, brows lifted in deviance. "And what, may I ask, is the catch, Mr. Ren?" She cocked her head slowly to the side, allure rolling off of dark hair, dark clothes, and dark personality in _waves_.

"I want to finish out the year at the University."

Bazine scoffed, collapsing in her seat. "You must be joking."

"Five months is all I ask."

"Five months might as well be five years."

"Don't be dramatic. You have a temporary replacement. Let me finish out the semester, and I can start immediately after."

She sighed, smirking, and shook her head. "You ask so much of me, Kylo, and all I do is offer you the position of your dreams."

"I owe it to my students," he told her.

"You owe them nothing," Bazine scoffed. "Tell me, why are you leaving the University in the first place?"

Kylo's jaw clenched, and he turned his gaze away from her. He shook his head slightly, but not enough for her to notice. "The petty politics of the administration are a waste of my time. The Dean, he breathes down the back of my neck despite the fact that I'm ten times as competent as he can ever _dream_ of being. I've done everything I can there. But my students shouldn't suffer from an ineffectual administration. Five months, Bazine. And then I'm yours."

Lips still pursed, Bazine ran a finger over the rim of her wine glass, eyes narrowed in thought. She sighed and leaned back, folding her arms over her chest again, boobs just as present as they were the first time around, if not more. She looked to the side, feigning defeat. "I just don't know, Kylo. I don't think the executives will go for this."

He looked at her apathetically. "You're the vice president of talent, Bazine. You're one of the executives. Let's not pretend that you don't have the power to do this for me."

"Oh, I do," she said, eyes flashing back to his. She nodded sincerely, burgundy-painted lips pursed in self-indulgence. "I _do_ have the power to do it. If I want it enough. Why should I want you that badly, Kylo?"

Her eyes bore holes into his. For the first time that night, Kylo felt his stomach drop. His jaw clenched, and he held her gaze, suddenly unable to look away. It wasn't her allure trapping him—that wasn't it. Something akin to...fear? Nervousness? Guilt? But Kylo _never_ felt anything of the sort for many, many years. Especially not fear.

Though the fact that he hadn't felt it for so long made it that much harder to identify.

Whatever it was, it was microscopic and disassociated, diluted from years of using his feelings of sadness and fear all too passionately, and subsequently training himself to numb them.

"I am your ideal candidate." Kylo nodded. "I know I am. _You_ know I am. You wouldn't have sought me out in the first place. _You_ wouldn't have put in an interim."

"I didn't seek out a waiting period of five months."

"I'll make it up to you," he assured her. "Let me owe you."

Bazine considered this, tapping her perfectly manicured nail on the body of her wine glass. "I like you, Kylo." She sighed in defeat. "I'll see what I can do. And we all know I make things happen. But you can expect me to cash in that favor." She lowered her gaze at him.

Kylo knew he deserved the position. So did Bazine. So did anyone with half a brain, as far as Kylo was concerned. But he'd almost lost his chance. If this was what kept him from losing it completely, then so be it.

"Well, then," Bazine lilted, flashing him a blindingly-white, supermodel smile, and pouring his empty glass of wine full to the brim. "Cheers."


	16. Do Go On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You felt wrong standing at the front of the classroom without Kylo there, essentially as his substitute. You couldn’t have felt more out of place putting your things down on his desk. What if they thought he was giving you special treatment? And what if they began to question why he was giving you special treatment in the first place? Wouldn’t they be able to quite fairly assume that he must be fucking you? They’d have hit the nail on the fucking head if they came to that conclusion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cringed so hard writing this :(

Kylo was late. You knew that he'd been busy lately, but he was _never_ late. And of all days to leave you, a junior TA standing at the front of a class filled with seniors, standing where _he_ should be standing—well, the first day of classes was basically a worst-case scenario.

To make things better- you hadn't even seen him yet. You'd returned to campus only the evening before, but Kylo had been out of town, only returning that morning. From there, he had to jet off to meetings. He was sparsely available by phone, mostly only to inform you that there would be no time to catch up until after your first class together.

But thus far, he hadn't even shown up to that.

You felt wrong standing at the front of the classroom without Kylo there, essentially as his substitute. You couldn't have felt more out of place putting your things down on _his_ desk. What if they thought he was giving you special treatment? And what if they began to question why he was giving you special treatment in the first place? Wouldn't they be able to quite fairly assume that he _must_ be fucking you? They'd have hit the nail on the fucking head if they came to that conclusion.

No, you reminded yourself. Why would they think that? They had no reason to come to that conclusion _at all_. Why were you overanalyzing? Hiring you as a TA was _not_ special treatment. Despite the fact that you were sleeping with him, you earned the position. What did you expect them to say? _"Wow, Kylo's having one of the top students in the department cover for him. They_ must _be fucking!_ "

You'd passed out the syllabi already and asked everyone to read it over. But you were coming up on the fifteen minute mark, and you had to make a move, lest everyone bring up the "if your professor doesn't show up within the first fifteen minutes, you can leave" rule, which was basically a totally made-up thing. You pulled your phone out of the back pocket of your jeans, glancing down at your notifications and hoping for one last lifeline.

_Stuck in a meeting. Running Late._

Yeah. You'd figured that much. Internally cursing your entire existence, you shoved your phone back into your pocket and cleared your throat loud enough for everyone to hear.

"Okay guys. It looks like we're going to have to get started without Professor Ren. The schedule says he wanted to start today with Southern Gothic Literature, so I guess we could do a bit of an overview," you said, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The low murmurs of chattering hadn't even started to die down until after you'd finished talking. The distant sound of low snickering drew your attention to the back of the lecture hall, where two girls were huddled together, whispering and laughing. You felt the blood drain from your face, and in that moment, you truly detested your life.

Clearing your throat again, you tried to will away the heat rash that you could already feel blooming across your chest and neck—your telltale sign of being either nervous, or too drunk.

"So, we basically saw Southern Gothic arise in the early 19th century. It's a super distinguishable form...or, uh, mode...of literature. It's filled with an identifier, something called 'the grotesque.' We have a lot of feelings of alienation and darkness that's indicative of the struggles than ran rampant in the American South during that time period, and the authors often sought to point of the moral shortcomings of the South. Slavery. Patriarchy. Racism. That sort of thing. So... a lot of delusional characters. Madness. And a looming sense of...evil. And of course, it's, um, rooted in classic gothic lit."

You cursed yourself internally. You were letting your nerves get the best of you. You swallowed thickly, and noticed you were trembling. You were _not_ a teacher. And seeing as you weren't a teacher, you certainly weren't prepared to teach 40 students who already hated you for stealing a position in the department.

"So, um, the writer who worked under this realm that you would probably recognize first is Edgar Allen Poe. Faulkner is another-"

Your words were cut off by the sound of large, double doors clicking as they opened.

Kylo Ren stood at the top of the classroom. You stopped breathing altogether when your eyes found his. One hand in his pocket, the other holding his briefcase, he stared down at you— _you,_ at the front of the-- _his--_ lecture hall, dead-center on the floor. You may as well have been giving a goddamn Ted Talk.

Your eyes went wide like saucers.

He looked even better than you remembered. Had he grown another few inches in the past five weeks? You tried to quell the swelling in your heart as you took him in. His familiar dark waves were swept over his natural part, cascading around the sides of his face like waterfalls and landing neatly above his shoulders. His suit was tailored to perfection, framing his body, the body that had become so familiar, down to the last inch. Good lord, if you just could have had a few moments with him...

"Do go on," he called amusedly, pulling his hand out of his pocket to gesture for you to continue. The humor in his voice existed more along the lines of being condescending. You cursed the universe for not transforming you into a puddle of goo, wishing you could melt away into obscurity.

"I was just...I just thought...the syllabus said to start with Southern Gothic so I was just giving a brief-"

"Oh, good. So you've been over the syllabus."

You were taken aback. "Yes. N- well, I've asked them to read it on their o-"

Kylo started descending the steps that shot a straight line from the stop of the risers to where you were standing. "So that's a no, I take it, then. Well, seeing as Ms. [Y/SURNAME] seemed to mistakenly think the syllabus was devoid of vital information for this course, we'll need to go back to that, of course." You felt your veins turn to ice; what the _fuck_ was he doing? "So I'll spare you the rest of your _lecture._ I'm sure we'd all be thrilled to hear your interpretation of Southern Gothic Literature, but I prefer to teach _my_ class on _my_ terms _."_ His words were like a knife to your chest. It was one thing to see him act indifferently towards you for the sake of saving face. But to see him openly humiliate you in front of _everyone—_ it was anguish.

"I thank you for your initiative, Ms. [Y/SURNAME]." Kylo said, landing in front of you at last. "But I think I can take it from here," he said with a condescending smirk, brushing past your shoulder and plopping his bag down on the desk, and gesturing to the much _smaller_ desk towards the side. The one meant for you.

"If you wouldn't mind taking attendance."

You thought you heard some of the students snicker in response. You weren't sure. Your brain practically went black. You couldn't even feel your feet against the floor as you walked to take your rightful seat besides Kylo, a violent blush overtaking your cheeks and making you feel overheated and even more humiliated than you already were. You buried yourself into the attendance sheet for the rest of the period, wishing you could disappear altogether.

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

You hadn't pictured your reunion with Kylo after five agonizingly long weeks to be like _this._ You expected to feel a sliver of joy, of anticipation, for one thing.

Well, at least the anticipation was still there. The anticipation of giving him a good sock in the jaw.

You paced around his empty office. You had bolted from that lecture hall the second you got the opportunity, and without a look back. And you didn't even think about the fact that Kylo likely didn't even notice, or it would have made you feel even worse. When his head wasn't up his own ass, it was buried in the boatloads of work he had to do. It pained you to admit that you probably weren't on his radar that afternoon.

But you knew he'd be coming back to his office thanks to his schedule you now had access to, and you'd taken the liberty of blocking off some time for yourself, after you'd cried in the bathroom for a while. So you found yourself in his empty office that evening: pacing furiously, all hope for the romantic reunion you'd hoped for having died along with your dignity, both having been destroyed at the hands of Kylo Ren.

The kicker was the fact that when you'd checked your phone before you'd started your makeshift lecture, you hadn't checked the time stamp; you just saw it and took it as a green light. He'd _sent_ the text right before class had started. If you'd just used your brain and checked the time in the first place...fuck. None of this would have even happened.

Your head whipped towards the door when you finally heard it open. Kylo stood in the doorway at last. With your arms folded over your chest and a scowl plain on your expression, you stared at him, waiting for an apology. The fact that he actually looked happy to see you made you want to punch him even more.

"What the _fuck_ is your problem?" you demanded the second he closed the door behind him.

"Hello to you, too."

"Hello. _Fuck_ you!"

"Keep your _fucking_ voice down," he warned furiously, closing the distance between you.

"Go fuck yourself!" you hissed in response, shoving two palms against his broad chest. "You _humiliated_ me in there _._ "

Your name fell off his lips. It made you _seethe_. His tone was so condescending, you were surprised you didn't rip his head off his body then and there. "Look, I'm happy to talk about this later, but right now, I have some work to get to." He held up his briefcase as proof.

"Let me free up your schedule." Taking one step forward, you wrenched the damn thing from his hands, and tossed it to the side. It hit the wall to your right, clattering against the bookshelf and landing flat on its face. "Now, tell me, what the _fuck_ is your problem, dude?"

"What's my problem?" He scoffed. "I walked into my assistant teaching my class, and we weren't ready to start the material yet. I still had plenty of other provisions and guidelines to touch on before even _thinking_ of starting lectures."

"That's a bullshit answer, Kylo, and you know it. Everyone knows what's in a fucking syllabus! You _humiliated_ me in there. In front of _everyone._ You undermined my grasp on the material. Said that my lecture was an ' _interpretation'._ They are _never_ going to trust or accept me as a TA now; they already hate me because I stole the job in the first place from the fucking seniors, you fucking idiot!"

"I suggest you watch your mouth," Kylo warned, dropping his voice, and taking another step towards you, his index finger jabbing directly into your face.

You shoved his arm away at the wrist. "You were _late._ I had no preparation, and no idea what to do."

"You should have _used your common sense and gone over the syllabus."_

"I had them _read it,_ you fucking— ** _UGH_** _!"_ you growled, balling your hands into rage-trembling fists and tapping out; you could hardly stand to fucking _look_ at him. You wrenched your body away, continuing your pacing from earlier. "I knew this would happen. This is _exactly_ what I said. _Exactly_ what I said we should consider before I took this stupid fucking job. I _knew_ that I shouldn't have accepted in case you changed how you felt about me. I _kn-"_

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked, voice husky and low as he gestured to you in confusion. "Nothing has _changed_ here."

"Nothing has _changed?"_ you demanded. "Ah, yes, I'm sorry I couldn't recognize that our romance was alive and well. You know, I've had a lot of shitty ex-boyfriends, Kylo. Like, a _lot,_ a lot. And none of them—not _one—_ would have pulled the shit that you pulled in that classroom."

"I'm not one of the _children_ that you've previously dated." he sneered. His jealousy was showing, and he had some fucking nerve acting like a boyfriend, now of all times. "Listen to me," he demanded, taking a step forward and seizing your wrist. You grunted in response as he wrenched you towards him, holding your imprisoned hand against his chest. "I can't treat you like someone special. Not with everyone watching. You're a smart girl. You know that."

" _Ohh!_ You're so right! You know what's a good way to make it seem like I'm just another one of your students? By _treating me like I'm one of your other students._ Do you berate and humiliate all of your other pupils? You're still giving me special treatment, Kylo," you sneered, leaning forward as if it would help deliver your point.

Suddenly, Kylo was very close to you, your lips separated by mere inches. A distance that you could close with little to no effort.

"My feelings toward you haven't changed. You _know_ this. Out of every single jealous senior in that lecture hall...you're smarter than _each and every one of them._ By a landslide. You deserve to be where you are now. You do. But..." His name fell off your lips again. Softer this time. The backs of his fingertips found your cheeks, and he brushed them tenderly. It was all you had not to sink into his touch and lose yourself. "We have to pretend to be indifferent towards each other. If anyone guesses a _thing,_ if they get the smallest sense of _anything_ between us...it could be the end of us both. It takes everything I have to pretend that I don't know you inside and out. To pretend I don't know your soul and your mind. To pretend that I don't care about you more than..." Sighing, Kylo shut his eyes, ending the stream of words coming from his lips. Putting a stop to anything he might regret saying before he could say it in the first place. "I _care_ about you." Was that as close as he could ever come to speaking about love? "But no one can know."

It was silent for a few moments. Your eyes softened. For a moment, you faltered, weakened, considering what he'd said. Kylo saw in the in. He took it. Lunging forward to seize your face in his hands, he crashed against you, lips finding yours in a violent but passionate collision. You felt your back hit the wall by the bookshelf, breathing heavily as your felt his tongue diving against your lips, worming your mouth open. You found your hands darting to untuck his shirt and slithering up his chest.

The clacking sound of his belt unbuckling brought you back to reality.

Breathless, you pulled away, staring at him through heavy eyes.

"You were fucking wrong. I don't care how you slice it. You were _so_ out of line, Kylo. You undermined my intelligence in front of _everyone._ Call me when you have a real apology."

Stepping away from his touch, you turned on your heel and left him alone. It had been so long since you'd seen him, but for your state of mind, your _dignity,_ you had to leave him behind. Maybe then, he'd come to his senses. One could only hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 500 KUDOS!!!! Thank you all for your support. I love you guys SO MUCH! Your comments give me life, especially during this time that I know is very difficult for all of us. Thank you guys. Love you xx


	17. I'm Being Torn Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Don’t play dumb now; you’re a smart girl,” Kylo sneered. “You’ve turned me into something I don’t understand. I was perfectly content keeping people out of my life, but you’ve wormed yourself in like the nosy little girl you are, and I don’t know how you’ve done it, but now I can’t escape you. You torment me, and now, you mock me. You’re everywhere. In my mind, my dreams, under my fucking skin, I can’t work, I can’t sleep, I can’t eat, I can’t do anything without thinking about you, and I will never forgive you for it. You’ve ruined everything because you made me care for you, and now I’m being torn apart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one is more shocked than me that I got this out tonight.

Five weeks. You'd gone five, miserable, painfully long weeks without Kylo Ren. He was the only person on the face of the planet that you cared about seeing. Your bones had ached for his touch every minute you'd been away. And now, you'd practically forgone a reunion altogether.

Days had passed, and you hadn't heard a word from Kylo. You'd checked your phone more times than you cared to admit, sometimes tricked by phantom buzzes, and sometimes, you checked without hearing anything at all. By Wednesday, you were starting to think that maybe you shouldn't have told him not to bother speaking to you without apologizing first, because it was beginning to look like the two of you would never speak again.

And you knew that was an overreaction. If you had a dollar for every time Kylo Ren had ignored you for days at a time, you'd be significantly richer than you'd been before. But that was part of the problem. The thought alone depressed you beyond belief, but perhaps if Kylo had no trouble ignoring you, you shouldn't be waiting for him at all.

Except the thought of losing him was almost enough to make you sick.

Wednesday's class period came and went, and the most that he asked you to do was take attendance. The first assignment wasn't even going to be administered until Friday, which gave you virtually no _work_ to do involving Kylo's class. And it also ruined any opportunity of speaking to him. But he didn't hold you back after class on Wednesday, even though you lingered for a few moments, practically handing him a chance to say something on a silver platter. But he didn't.

You started to worry. Thursday night came around, and Rose caught you red-handed nicking some berry-flavored rum from the refrigerator and drinking it straight from the bottle.

"Still not any better, huh?" she asked, plopping down onto the couch.

"Huh?"

"That guy you've been seeing? What's-his-name? From tinder?"

You shook your head. "I never told you his name."

She gave you a sympathetic look and patted the seat next to her. "When am I gonna get to meet this guy?" she asked.

Crossing the room with bare feet, you sank into the cushion next to her. "Does it look like it's going well enough for my best friend to meet him?" you scoffed, raising the bottle of hard liquor and giving it a small wave before taking another deep swig.

"So what's going on with him? Why don't you talk to me anymore?"

The plain sadness in Rose's eyes made your heart turn to ice. It was an unexpected question, and you hadn't thought that your actions were hurting her--not in the slightest. You slumped your shoulders. "Rose...oh my god. I'm so sorry. I never meant to hurt you or anything. It's just..." your voice trailed off. You _were_ being secretive. You _couldn't_ let her know what was going on, even though you were absolutely _dying_ to. But if you told her that, she wouldn't understand. If you couldn't tell her anything, because you were fucking your professor, and you couldn't tell her _why_ you couldn't tell her anything, then what would keep her from taking it personally?

"It's just...it was never really a real _thing._ I thought it might be. We started off just sleeping together. You know, after we met...on the app. And I kept thinking he was getting soft with me. Letting me stay the night, saying he cared about me. But every time I think we're getting closer, he pushes me farther away than I was when we started."

Sighing, Rose leaned against the back of the couch. "Why don't you cut him off?" she asked. "I mean...it seems like you really like him. But if it's starting to hurt you...trust me. It's not worth it."

Shakily, you nodded. Even though you knew you wouldn't heed her advice.

"What's his name?" she asked quietly.

You chewed the inside of your cheek and looked away.

"Right...better not give him the power."

Rose seemed satisfied enough with your conversation. You felt horrible about lying, but had told the truth wherever you could, only substituting the facts for who your mysterious lover was and how you'd met. Oh, and you'd omitted the fact that his parents were world-famous philanthropists, but that was neither here nor there, because you hadn't even completely unearthed that story yourself.

One mystery at a time, you'd decided.

Friday rolled around slowly. You sat through Ren's class as silently as you had on Wednesday, hardly meeting his eyes, and far too embarrassed to look at any of the students after Ren's little performance on Monday. After what seemed like an eternity, class was finally dismissed. It was a Friday afternoon, and everyone else was so eager to get out for the weekend, so you quickly found yourself to be the last person left in the lecture hall—you and Professor Ren.

You stole a quick glance as you collected the last of your papers: syllabi, attendance sheets, daily to-do lists, and the works, but averted your eyes as you stood up to collect your bag. It was so painfully, deadly silent, that you expected it to remain so until one of you left.

But it didn't.

"How long should I expect this nonsense to continue?" Kylo's voice smacked you on the back of the head, nearly causing you to drop your bag as you shoved in the last of your folders.

"Excuse me?" you whispered. You hadn't meant for your voice to be so low and quiet, but you felt like you'd been kicked in the chest. You dropped your bag onto your small desk, turning around to face him.

"You haven't spoken to me all week. Your little silent treatment is getting a bit tired."

"I told you that I'm happy to forgive you as soon as I'm given a proper apology. Which I deserve, by the way." It was an outrage that apparently, he needed reminding.

Kylo, who stood at the front of his desk, took a single step forward. Suddenly, the space in between you seemed much, much smaller.

He said nothing. 

"And if you want to talk, then you can always, you know. _Text or call_. You always seem to forget that phones exist, and then complain when we're not speaking," you scoffed.

He gave you a glare, a clear sense of warning in his eyes. It made your heart skip. "I hardly feel welcome, should I want to reach out to you."

"Well," you said, shrugging, turning back to your overly-stuffed bag, and the folder that still stuck out all askew. "Like I said. Whenever you're ready to apologize."

You hadn't heard Kylo approach you. Suddenly, he was just _there,_ his cold hand wrapped possessively around your wrist, wrenching you away from your table and against him. He pinned your hand to his chest, staring at you with an all too familiar gaze. One that you found was far too powerful to resist.

"What do you want from me?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I was _very clear_ about what I want from you, and it's not a ridiculous request," you hissed back, leaning your grimaced face closer to his. "You could have been _way nicer_ to me without giving anything away about-"

"No. What do you _want_ from me?" Kylo demanded, voice snarling and angry. Suddenly, you found yourself extremely taken aback. "Why are you _doing this to me?"_

"I d- I don't know what you're _talking_ about."

With a jerk of his hand, your wrist wrenched, bending painfully, somehow clamped even tighter against his colossal, rock-hard chest. Your lip quivered. You wanted nothing more than to yank your hand away and smack him right in the face, but you knew you couldn't pull away from him if you tried. And you weren't even trying. "You know _exactly_ what I mean." Kylo's fists were clenched—both the one around your wrist, and the one at his side. "Are you so ignorant that you don't understand what you've done to me?" he snapped, face so close to yours that the air from his mouth hissed across your lips. "Do you think that I don't want to be free of... of whatever _this is?"_

Mouth agape, brows raised in confusion, you stared, speechless, shaking your head. When you didn't respond, he jerked your wrist again. "I-I don't-"

"Don't play dumb now; you're a smart girl," Kylo sneered. "You've turned me into something I don't understand. I was perfectly content keeping people out of my life, but you've wormed yourself in like the nosy little girl you are, and I don't know how you've done it, but now I can't escape you. You torment me, and now, you mock me. You're _everywhere._ In my mind, my dreams, under my fucking skin, I can't work, I can't sleep, I can't eat, I can't _do anything without thinking about YOU, and I will never forgive you for it._ _You've ruined everything because you made me care for you, and now I'm being torn apart_."

Kylo had spoken too quickly. He'd spilled more to you in ten seconds than he'd ever intended to spill in his entire life. You stared at him silently, dumbly, trying to take it all in. Kylo had admitted before, albeit begrudgingly, that he cared about you. But this was different. This was more than caring; he just didn't have the capacity to recognize it yet. Torture, pain, obsession, sleepless nights, captivation, and more pain. There was only one word to describe it. And it wasn't "care."

Kylo's breathing was ragged and heavy. The way he stared at you, eyes wide and wild and unblinking, you weren't sure if he hated you or loved you. But you supposed that you were closer than ever to finally finding out.

His lips were against yours in an instant, body crashing against yours and pinning it to his desk behind you. Your breath caught in your throat and you fought for air as your mouths and tongues did battle. You'd never held onto him as tightly as you did in that moment, hands tugging, desperate, your ass finding the tabletop so your legs could open wide and wrap around his thighs.

The ruffling of fabric made you pull away and open your eyes. Kylo was furiously shrugging off his suit jacket, tossing it to the side with the regard one might pay a piece of garbage. His hands dove for your hips, lips searching for yours again.

"Kylo," you whimpered, pulling your head away, and moaning when his mouth found the curve of your neck instead. "Kylo, not here. Please. Someone could walk in."

"Good. Then they'll know exactly who you belong to," he warned darkly, taking your face into his broad hands before kissing you again. You kissed him back. You tried to fight it, but it was a fruitless effort. Still, the tugging at the back of your mind was still there, alive and well. A million scenarios flashed through your mind: a janitor sent to clean up after class, a student coming back for a forgotten sweater, the professor teaching the next lecture showing up early to set up for class. You whimpered in fear at the same moment you moaned in pleasure when Kylo's hands found your neck, squeezing lightly. The result was a twisted sound.

Kylo's hands moved downward, to dip under the hem of your skirt. He stopped when he reached your thighs.

"What the hell is this?" He muttered lowly.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. The two of you had been fighting, so the last thing you'd expected was to fuck Kylo directly after class today. And it was January, the air outside bitterly cold. You'd settled on a pair of tights to wear with your skirt.

Evidently, Kylo preferred you to be more easily accessible. Or certain parts of you, at least. You blushed furiously, opening your mouth to explain. Before you could, he caught your chin in between his fingers, pinching it sharply before his hand expanded to envelop your entire jaw. He squeezed. Hard.

"Thought you could resist me, could you?" he purred.

You shook your head, cunt fluttering with desire. "N-no, K-"

He gave your jaw another warning squeeze.

"Professor Ren," you corrected yourself shakily. "I didn-"

"Thought you could resist this cock," he chuckled darkly. "Let's see you try."

You gasped as he released the grip on your jaw, wrenching you around to face the desk and slamming you downward so your upper body landed ungracefully on the tabletop with an unpleasant thud.

Your legs tremored as he yanked your tights down before moving to shove your skirt up your hips with little regard. Next, you felt his hands on your ass, groping the plush flesh roughly between his fingers. Then, the ripping of fabric. You gasped again as you felt your thong torn from your body until it was left in tatters and dangling from Kylo's fingers like a trophy. Craning your neck, you saw him stuff it into his pocket from behind you.

His hand moved back to your ass cheek. You braced yourself, knowing exactly what was coming. The pain was even greater than what you expected. Without so much as a warning slap, Kylo's hand came down on the flesh of your ass, filling the empty lecture hall with an obscene and recognizable sound, and leaving a burning sensation in its wake. Mouth wide open, you gulped down two lungfulls of air, pressing your forehead into the desk beneath you. The second smack, this time on the other ass cheek, wasn't any more bearable. You groaned through gritted teeth, hot breath smacking you in the face as it bounced off the tabletop.

Kylo's hand was gentler now, rubbing your ass gently, as if he was rewarding you for taking the pain. For a split second, your breathing began to level, but quickly started to hitch again as his fingers drew dangerously close to your dripping cunt.

They brushed over your sex, teasing you. You whimpered, squirming beneath him, ass writhing, _begging_ for his cock. You heard him snicker from behind you, and you blushed. You could tell he wanted to take his time, make you suffer, make you _beg._ But this wasn't the place for that. As much as he wanted to torment you, even Kylo knew that you didn't have all day.

You exhaled as Kylo's length finally slid into you. He groaned obscenely as the tightness of your warm, desperate cunt sucked him down, and you winced as you felt yourself stretch for him. Instantly, he was coated in your wetness. You wanted him inside you so painfully that having his offensively large dick inside you was more of a relief than ever. But your body betrayed you—you craned your neck to keep your eyes on the entrances to the lecture hall.

Kylo noticed this just as he began to thrust. He seized your hair and snarled, shoving your head ungently back to the desk, your cheek hitting the cold wood. "I didn't tell you to fucking move," he warned coldly. His hips found a pace, snapping against your hips.

Your jaw fell slack, but you closed it quickly, muffling your uncontrollable moans with the back of your hand. You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut, desperate to stay quiet in the midst of such overwhelming pleasure.

Kylo growled. "Look at you, trying not to scream my fucking name," he snarled, voice breathy as he thrusted against you. "I can keep that whore mouth of yours fucking quiet." More rustling of fabric. You gasped as you felt something slip under your neck, and the next thing you knew, you were being wrenched upward, back arched impossibly deep as the back of your head hit his shoulder. For a moment, your mind swam with confusion, but then the realization hit you all at once: Kylo had undone his own tie and slipped it around your neck.

From behind you, out of your vision, he held the ends of the tie like reigns. You tried to breath, and your breath caught in your throat. You tried to moan, but it was noiseless.

Fuck. The man was controlling when you could _breathe._ You whimpered and he pulled tighter on the ends of the tie. Your eyes squeezed shut again, and you felt the unmistakable sensation of your own cum spilling from your cunt and rolling down your thighs.

Your dripping wetness quickly transferred to Kylo's thighs. Tilting his head, he looked to the space in between you, where your ass met his hips. The sight alone was enough to make his cock twitch—and it did. You felt the added movement inside you and your legs nearly gave out beneath you.

"Dirty thing," he growled, lips finding your ear. "You pretend to be so innocent, but you'd love it if someone walked in here. Saw you getting split open by your English professor. Saw what a fucking slut you are for me."

You moaned in response, or tried to, at least. The sound that came out was a pathetic whistle against the straining of his tie.

He spanked you again. Your jaw fell open, and your vision went blurry. You were woozy. You could hardly stand. But you were so drunk on pleasure, you could have died happy—as long as you got to cum.

You keened, your dipping cunt taking his cock like it was made for him and him alone. Kylo grew breathless behind you, which only made your state worse. You needed to cum. You needed to cum like you needed oxygen, and honestly, in that moment, you could have done with both.

Tears prickled the corner of your eyes. Never in your life had another man made you cum by penetration alone, but Kylo was different from everyone else in countless ways, that being one of them. You were blinded by pleasure as he drove you closer and closer. The sharp movements of his hips grew erratic. You were getting there, dangerously close to the edge, together.

He grunted. You arched your back deeper, body _begging_ for his cock. Deeper. Harder. It was all you needed, all that filled your mind.

You felt a broad hand slide up your back, his touch driving you deeper into madness. You began to shake. Kylo growled from behind you, recognizing that you were close.

"Cum," he ordered. "Cum for me, little slut."

Pleasure exploded in and around you. The moment his irresistible voice filled your ears, it corrupted you, sending you over the edge. You saw stars at the corner of your otherwise empty vision, not sure if they were shut, or the lack of oxygen had made it all go black. You didn't care. You shook violently through your orgasm, muscles tensing down to your toes, ass grinding against him for _more, more, more._ You would have screamed if you could have made any noise. What escaped your throat was a series of strained sobs.

Hot loads of cum shooting deep into your cunt only intensified the sensation. Kylo filled you deeply with his load, grunting dangerously as he came, thrusting unforgivably until he was riding the waves of his orgasm, milking his cock in your tight but tired cunt until it was over.

The tie was slipped from your neck, fabric burning your skin as Kylo pulled it away. You hardly noticed.

You were collapsed on the desk from the waist up, your legs long having gone useless, rendering you unable to move. From behind you, you heard a breathless Kylo yank your tights back up your legs. You moaned lowly as you felt his cum began to trickle out of you, wetting your tights and pooling down to your thighs.

"That's how I want you to walk home," he ordered. "Dripping with my cum."

You whimpered as you felt more cum slide out of you. Broad hands found your arms and pulled you upwards, though not ungently. He turned you around, bracing you against his chest, lifting your chin in his fingers.

He took in your face. Your makeup ran with sweat and tears, smudged at the forehead where you'd been pressing into the desk. Hair tousled and dampened with sweat at your brow. He stroked your cheek, admiring his work. You couldn't have looked more perfect.

"Go home," he instructed lightly. "And wait for me to call you. You'll stay with me tonight."

You nodded, eyes fluttering shut as he leaned down to kiss you.

The walk home was difficult, physically speaking. Your legs were like jell-o. But your mind was light and your heart full. You thought of the mess in your tights as other students milled about the streets, none of them knowing what you'd done. What you'd gotten away with. _Again._ You thought of your ripped thong stuffed in Kylo's pocket. And you thought of seeing him later that night. And for the first time all week, you smiled.


	18. You're Mine, Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I believe I’ve made it perfectly clear,” he spat. “That you’re mine.”
> 
> You gulped, but said nothing. His eyes narrowed, and silently, he drank you in.
> 
> The silence passed. So did your fear. Gathering your breath, you steadied yourself. “Then you’re mine, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow, plot. a concept.

You found yourself on Kylo's doorstep that evening, as planned. Overnight bag in hand, you held your breath as you listened to the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door growing louder as they approached. When he opened the door, his eyes found yours in an instant, and it didn't make it any easier to breathe.

Your heart fluttered, air sticking to the walls of your throat. Seeing him... it never got easier. You never seemed to get used to his consuming stare, his wide, captivating eyes, sharp and severe features. He towered over you, as always, and you fought the urge to reach up and brush a strand of his raven-colored hair.

You half expected him to speak, but he didn't. A heavy silence lay between the two of you, brimming with the knowledge that you'd messed up again, risking both of your positions at the university but having been too overcome by lust to care. That you'd fought horribly, and had barely spoken since you'd returned for the last term of the year. That he had laid his heart out to you, exposed his scars unintentionally, and the knowledge that he cared for you more than he ever intended was out in the open, and he couldn't take it back, no matter how badly he wanted to.

_You've turned me into something I don't understand._

You swallowed thickly, wishing he would just relax and ask you to come inside. The severe glint in his eye told you that maybe he wouldn't, that perhaps he'd turn you away. How could anyone be so determined to stand in the way of their own happiness? Kylo had made it clear, going so far as to _tell_ you he never wanted to be in love. But why fight it? Why fight something that could turn his life around for the better?

_You torment me, and now, you mock me._

He was going to slam the door in your face. You were sure of it. He'd practically told you that he hated you for changing him, for infiltrating his mind. _I'll never forgive you,_ he'd said. But just as you moved to take a step back, Kylo held out his hand.

There was an unmistakable somberness in his eye as his features, along with every muscle in his body, finally relaxed. Left behind was weariness and gravity. At last, your chest untensed, and you exhaled, reaching to take his hand, letting him pull you gently inside.

You were spending more and more time at Kylo's place; certainly not every night—his schedule was too busy to permit it. But at least a couple times a week, you'd receive a text asking you to come, or alternatively, while you and Kylo would sit together in his office grading papers, he'd place a hand on yours, and you would understand.

It went on like this for a few weeks, and you were grateful that you and Kylo were finally finding a routine, not that his emotional ambiguity had relented. And though you still couldn't quite define it, whatever you shared together continued without incident—with the exception of Rose spotting you on your way out of your suite, red-handed with your overnight bag. Disappointed, she'd give you a soft look, but never said anything. You would look sheepishly back at her, a silent apology, an empty promise to explain later.

That time had yet to come, and you were quite sure it never would.

You were far too focused on Kylo, thrilled to be spending time with him but terrified that establishing a routine was dangerous if you weren't establishing boundaries and labels to go along with it.

One night, a week or so after you'd made up, the third night you'd spent at his house since then, you lay outstretched on your stomach atop Kylo's duvet cover, doing some reading for your other literature classes. You hadn't bothered to dress, and neither had Kylo save a pair of sweatpants. He leaned against his headboard, typing away on his laptop, working on his most recent article. Shirtless. He made it quite difficult to focus, which was why you were turned away from him, your head towards the foot of the bed. Every once in a while, he'd take a break from typing to read something on his screen, his fingers moving to gently stroke the back of your calf.

You placed your hand on your open book, pressing the pages down as you tilted your chin over your shoulder.

"Kylo," you muttered softly.

He gave you a curt " _Hmm,"_ in response, eyes never leaving his screen.

"I know there are certain things you don't like to talk about. But _this..._ you and me...we fought, and then now, we're just doing _this._ And I...I don't really know what this is."

"Rather ineffectual to establish labels as they'd have to be kept a secret regardless."

"Doesn't it matter to us?"

Irritated, Kylo whipped off his glasses, finally directing his gaze on you. "I don't know. Does it?" he snapped.

"I don't know," you argued flatly. "Does it matter to you if I go to the bars with my friends this weekend and bring home the first guy I meet?"

His eyes narrowed dangerously. "I think you already know the answer to that question."

"Are _you_ allowed to go to a bar and bring home any woman you want?"

Silence. Kylo set his jaw. And then, "is that what you're worried about?"

You shrugged. "Some things can be left unsaid, for a time, but some things can't. I'm not asking you to put on a wedding dress, Kylo, but we have to establish _some_ boundaries, or someone's going to get hurt, and hell, who's to say it'll be me?"

Before you could inhale your next breath, Kylo had lunged, tenderlessly flipping you onto your back and pinning your wrists down on either side of your head. You gasped, eyes going wide as they found Kylo's own, staring down at you.

"I believe I've made it perfectly clear," he spat. "That you're _mine."_

You gulped, but said nothing. His eyes narrowed, and silently, he drank you in.

The silence passed. So did your fear. Gathering your breath, you steadied yourself. "Then you're mine, too."

For a moment, Kylo didn't flinch. It would have been just as well if it was a statue on top of you, pinning you in place. But then, he softened, eyes falling to your lips. And then, delicately, he nodded.

You woke up the next morning, alone in bed, as was always the case. You weren't sure that Kylo ever really slept, so it was no surprise that he always woke up before you did. You stretched, groaning in pain as your sore muscles screamed. Kicking off the covers, you stepped into the bathroom, examining your bare skin.

Bruises peppered and bloomed at your hips and neck. Opening your legs slightly, you saw bite marks at the insides of your thighs. Gingerly, you ran a finger over them and pressed down, feeling a low ache in response, the obvious beginnings of a bruise. You smiled, silently hoping that they'd last forever, like tattoos etched into you.

You dressed into the day clothes that you packed the night before, before you trudged sleepily down to the kitchen, which you were surprised to find empty. Typically, you were met with your usual cup of coffee and a very awake-looking Kylo. How the man could function with so little sleep was still a mystery to you; he was like a very fine-tuned machine. He'd been working tirelessly on his new publication, and you should know; the number of sources you'd read and pulled for his review was so astonishing, it was beginning to interfere with your schoolwork-- which was likely why you were so exhausted. That, and the bone-breaking sex you two had been having.

But with his workload picking up and his deadlines drawing nearer, you felt silly for expecting to find him anywhere other than his study. You checked your phone. 8:00 AM. He'd still be home, but heading to campus soon. After brewing a mug of coffee for yourself and another for Kylo, though you were sure it would be his third or forth cup, you headed up to the third floor.

Sure enough, Kylo's gaze was fixed so intently on his laptop that you might have thought he was in a trance. And you were right; an empty cup of coffee sat at the end of his desk. You set the fresh one down and leaned against the wall, taking tired sips, watching him try to stay afloat amidst everything he had to get done.

"Thanks," he muttered, taking a gulp of coffee without prying his eyes away from the document on his screen.

You nodded in acknowledgement, not that he saw you, and furrowed your brow as you watched him work, silent for a few moments. "You know, you should really send me what you have, that way I can start proofing now."

He held up a finger to you, narrowing his eyes, as if to tell you he was on the verge of losing his concentration. You sighed, and wished you could help.

After a few moments of silence save for the rapid tap of keyboard clicks, he shut his laptop and began to pack it away. "You can start proofing tonight. I'll email you what I have so far," he brushed out of the study without warning, but you recognized this already as his wordless signal that it was time to head to campus. "I'll also need you to compare the internal citations to the external ones, and make sure I haven't missed anything."

You nodded, whipping out your phone to start a to-do list.

"And before I head out for the day, I need to go to your office with you and pick up those essays. I should have them graded by midweek," you reminded him.

"Good, good," Kylo muttered, looking down at you to nod in thanks.

The two of you strode briskly through the house and out to the street before climbing into his car. Only after he felt the soft rumbling of the earth buzzing underneath his tires did he finally seem to relax. Exhaling deeply after he'd pulled out of his neighborhood, he ran a steady hand through his hair. "I should have this thing done, _really_ done, by Friday."

"Thank god. I've never seen you this swamped."

"Unfortunately, this is pretty regular. You caught me at a good time earlier this year."

You pursed your lips. Sure, his _workload_ was much higher now than when you first started getting to know him. But even all those weeks ago, you wouldn't have guessed you'd caught him at a _good_ time. Was being sexually depraved and emotionally unavailable Kylo in his prime?

"But," he offered, snapping you out of your thoughts. "Getting this paper out of the way will be a huge relief. Cause for celebration, I think."

"Oh?" you asked as Holdo Hall came distantly into view down the road.

"This Saturday, the public library is hosting a literary event. It's this big gala for writers—authors of both nonfiction and fiction. Award ceremony, dinner, open bar. The works."

You felt your eyes widen. "Are you up for an award?"

Suddenly, Kylo looked rather uncomfortable. Shifting in his seat and clenching his outstretched hand around the steering wheel, he responded, "Not the big one, but I'm being recognized as an emerging writer."

" _Kylo!" y_ ou exclaimed. "That's amazing!"

"It's a really impressive event, and though it's meant for authors, it attracts all sorts of attendees. Journalists, academics, a good mix of different people in the field. It's a great opportunity to network."

You leaned back in your seat. "That'll be great for you."

He sighed. "I'm saying that I think you should come."

Gawking, you turned to him. "Me? Is that a joke?"

"It's not a joke at all."

You felt a sudden surge of confusion, excitement, and sinking disbelief all at once. "But...I'm a student. I don't know anyone there, and I haven't been invited, and I don't have any accomplishments yet."

" _I'm_ inviting you. You'll be with me."

You tilted your head and squinted your eyes, trying to work out the kinks from his suggestion. "I'm a student," you repeated.

"You're my TA, my writing assistant, the best in the department, and graduating in a year. I hardly think anyone will argue your presence." He said this as if it was stupid that he had to explain it in the first place.

You leaned back in your seat again, after you'd sprang forward in excitement, still trying to work out how this could go down without resulting in disaster. "Are you sure that's appropriate? I really don't want you getting in trouble because of me."

Kylo sighed, finally resolved enough to try and make you feel better. "You won't be the only student there. There will be interns, writing assistants. People like you. I've heard of other students from _this_ school being in attendance before, though they're usually seniors. But you're a cut above them all, regardless. This is an opportunity for you, and there's no reason you shouldn't take it."

You sighed. On the contrary, you could _definitely_ think of a reason that made this a bad idea.

But even so, the possibility of building your network couldn't be disputed.

Finally, you nodded, and you couldn't help but smile. You could go to the gala and talk to _real_ professionals. No one had to know you were there for Kylo.

Finally satisfied with your resolve, Kylo pulled into his regular parking spot at the back of Holdo Hall and collected his belongings. By the time you'd stepped out of the car and were crossing the lot to the back entrance, you were brimming with a smile that stretched from ear to ear. You slung your bag over your shoulder, faltering slightly under its weight. Even so, nothing could ruin your mood now.

Or so you thought. You silently followed Kylo into the building, but just before you stepped inside, you happened to look off to your left. Walking along the sidewalk, slowing down to get a better look at Kylo Ren and who was with him was Dean Armitage Hux and his unmistakably narrowing eyes.

You furrowed your brow. Something about him made you tense. He looked at Kylo with pure disdain, which immediately set you on edge. You knew that he wouldn't have been _waiting_ to spot Kylo, but still, you felt uneasy, though you couldn't pinpoint why, exactly. It was surely due to the close call you'd had before, which involved Hux nearly walking into a classroom with your pants around your ankles and Kylo's tongue in your mouth.

You drew your gaze away and tucked into the building, and tried to put Hux out of your mind. But no matter how hard you tried, as the day went on, a nagging presence lingered, tugging you back the second you finally stopped thinking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this one wasn't as substantial, but it's a lead up to the next chapter, which will be heinously long.


	19. Glitz, Glamour, and Ignorance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ignoring you, she seized your hands, gripping them within hers. “Don’t try to know him,” she warned, voice dropping to a whisper. “Don’t think that you can fix him. I’m really sorry to say it, but you can’t. It’s not that there’s something wrong with you, it’s just… no one can. Just do your work, get your degree, and don’t look back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy quarantine, have another chapter.
> 
> ALSO! 600 kudos. Fucking bonkers. Thank you guys. I love you.

The rest of the week stretched on without incident, though your encounter with Hux had left you cautious—if you could call it an encounter. Kylo seemed personally offended that you considered Hux a threat _at all._ ("What does he matter to us? He can't prove a _thing."_ )

You didn't argue. He _couldn't_ prove anything, but seeing the two of you scramble out of the same car at 8:30 in the morning wasn't ideal for the concealment of what you and Kylo were up to. But at least Kylo had a point—you could have been doing a million other things that would have required you to be in the same car. Maybe it was on his way, so Kylo had picked you up from your dorm so you wouldn't have had to walk all the way to his office. Maybe you'd met for a meeting at the coffee shop to review assignments before heading to work for the day. Maybe he was so mean to you in class that he took you out for breakfast to make it up to you. Maybe he'd picked you up from an errand you had to run for him.

Either way, he was right in the fact that Hux had no proof, but it was more imperative than ever that he kept it that way. The week was devoid of any unessential physical contact on campus, and Kylo himself was spearheading that effort, keeping to himself while on university grounds. That surprised you—the mere opportunity to spite Hux usually seemed to delight him. Perhaps he'd finally gathered that risking both your education and his career wasn't worth it.

The weekend couldn't come soon enough. You hadn't spent the night at Kylo's again because all he wanted to do was charge through the rest of his publication. But with the amount of work you had yourself, you weren't sure that you'd have been able to go even if Kylo was willing to have you over. That gave you more time at home, which came with its own set of drawbacks, as Rose was surely growing more suspicious of your frequent overnight absences after you'd assured her that your fling wasn't serious enough to continue, or even name the individual in question. You'd have to figure out how you were going to get around keeping Kylo a secret from her forever, though currently, that was the least of your worries. When she hadn't seen you all week, she'd come into your room to check on you, only to find you pouring over books and articles with fistfuls of hair seized between white-knuckled fingers.

You heard your name fall breathlessly off her lips, and turned to see her looking positively concerned and horrified by all the contents in front of you.

"What is all this? Homework?"

"It's for Ren," you told her. "He has his publication due this weekend, and I've missed a source. I have to find it. And I have to grade, like, forty papers," you said, lip trembling, feeling stress-heat blotch across your chest.

She muttered your name again. It trembled with sympathy. "If you can't keep up with all this, you should tell him."

"Rose, I can handle it. I just have to get through the rest of the week."

"Fixing the paper, _and_ forty essays to grade? That's an insane expectation for _anyone_."

"Fine," you lied, just to appease her. "I'll tell him."

That seemed to ease her concerns. It was yet another lie you had to tell her to keep her at bay, but this time, you didn't have the time or spare brainpower to feel guilty. You continued to charge through the week at such an unruly pace and with so little sleep that when Saturday came around, you hadn't even realized it was the weekend. You woke up confused, and in a panic, only to remember that Kylo had sent in his publication the night before. It was done. You were free of the damned thing, and had all of Sunday to finish grading the remaining essays.

You sighed and relief. You felt the weight lift from your shoulders.

And then you remembered, tonight was the gala. And the weight came right back.

It was your senior prom dress, which you'd brought to college to wear to homecoming. Tonight, it would serve you for a third time. It was a soft, light-blue, floor-length gown with a plunging neckline but a modestly shaped, understated ballgown skirt. Soft ruffles rose and fell like gentle waves up to your waist, where thin strips of satin cinched your frame. You'd done your hair up in a loose updo to frame your décolletage, where you donned the only nice piece of nice jewelry you owned, a necklace with a single, small diamond pendant—a high school graduation gift from your family that you saved for special occasions. Staring at yourself in the mirror when you were dressed and pampered, you wished you had something slightly more mature. You looked good enough, but hoped that you wouldn't look too out of place: like you should be at the prom while everyone else enjoyed the Met Gala.

Rose beamed at you when you stepped into the living room. "Beautiful," she said, her kind face alit with warmth. Hopefully, she had enough confidence for the both of you.

"Look, again," she warned as you strode towards the door of your suite. "Since you'll see him tonight, tell him he's working you too hard."

When you'd told her you were going to the gala with Ren, she didn't seem to have any reservations. You supposed that was a win in itself, and it made you feel a little better.

Your ride to Kylo Ren's house was one of your most nervous to date. What if he thought you looked too childish in your old prom dress? What if he avoided you tonight, and left you by yourself, while he went off to talk to a room full of highly accomplished strangers? What if you _did_ talk to these highly accomplished strangers, and they didn't like you, or maybe worse, didn't care one way or the other?

You had half a mind to turn around and go back home, to change into a pair of sweats, climb into your twin bed, and never come out. But you wrestled with the thoughts long enough that you soon found the car parked outside of Kylo Ren's familiar brownstone.

You stepped out of the car, one glittering stiletto hitting the pavement, scraping unpleasantly as you trembled to your feet. You thanked the driver and shut the door, watching him drive down the road and disappear into the darkness before you ascended the steps to Kylo's front door.

Bunching your skirt in either hand, you lifted the fabric to climb gingerly up the stone stairs. You took a deep breath, letting the air sit in your lungs before exhaling through puckered lips, trying to calm your vexatious nerves. And finally, you lifted the back of your fist to knock.

Kylo opened the door before your knuckles could make contact with the wood.

You furrowed your brow. It was the second time he'd done that lately.

His eyes fell into yours. Stasis, for a moment, and he was silent and still. Gingerly, you stared back, trapped in his gaze, nervous and perplexed, wishing more than anything that you could read his mind; it would make everything so much easier and save you heaps and heaps of anxiety. But finally, Kylo relaxed, dropping his arm from the door and stepping onto the stone landing with you, eyes only leaving yours to trail down the rest of your body, taking in the full view—you, in your modest yet delicate jewelry, soft tufts of tulle rolling downward to graze the hard stone beneath you. Only after much more silence did Kylo's gaze venture back upwards to meet your own, his brow lifted slightly, eyes soft, yielding, completely abandoning his usual coldness. He exuberated a gentleness, a vulnerability so unfamiliar he nearly looked _younger_ , as if he'd been plucked out of a time machine from five years ago and dropped onto the steps before you. Perhaps _this_ Kylo was an echo of Ben Solo, who still remained a mystery to you. Seeing Kylo Ren like this gave you a sensation that felt akin to being kicked in the stomach.

You swallowed, smoothing your skirt, dropping your gaze downward to make sure he was looking at you in shocked adoration and not in horror. You half expected to see some disastrous wardrobe malfunction—your skirt torn away or donned with a mysterious stain. To your relief, everything was in check, which meant that he must have been... _pleased_. But pleased into silence? That was unlike him. Feeling yourself redden, you met his gaze again, inhaling shakily, feeling unwillingly self-conscious.

The silence became unbearable. You both noticed, and spoke at the same time.

"This is just my old prom dress-"

"You're stunning."

Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt your neck retract in surprise. Staring at him with wide eyes, you felt your brow pinch before you could stop it, a clear display of your shock.

"Thank you," you said quickly, after another painful silence.

It was then that you finally peeled your gaze away from the two places it had been directed towards—Kylo's eyes, or your own feet. You took a step back to take him in, too. He was the vision of absolute perfection in a sleek, black suit and silk-smooth tie, and pocket square. It was certainly a step up from his regular work suits, which were also extremely nice, but typically navy or brown and fit somewhat looser, more casually. _This_ was different, jet black and extremely slim, expensive-looking and elegant. He'd flipped his hair over to the side. Staring at such a perfect image for so long was making your throat tighten. He looked like he should be on a red carpet.

"Well," he said. "I suppose we should..."

"Yes." You cleared your throat.

"This will be...this will be good. And... we'll be strictly professional."

"Strictly professional," you repeated.

The glittering lights of Boston speckled the passenger side's window as Kylo drove you downtown to the hotel that was hosting the event. Kylo was perfectly pleasant during the ride, a step up from his usual brooding self. The man even _smiled_ while you talked, filling you in on his relief of getting the publication sent out, how excited he was to see his colleagues tonight, and how he was happy to finally be sleeping again. It was a relief seeing him like this; any reminders that the man was an actual _human_ were much appreciated.

Once you'd arrived, he took you in once more, eyes falling down your body and back up as he helped you out of the car. And then, he dropped his hand. From here-on out, you were strictly professor and assistant, mentor and student. You both kept your hands at your sides, and you realized that they felt very heavy. With the burden of wanting to reach out and touch him, you left the parking garage and headed into the building.

Stepping into the lobby was like stepping onto Mount Olympus. They'd certainly spared no expense; the hotel was already luxurious as it was-- crystal chandeliers lining every ten feet of the ceiling and gold trimmings plating the walls. But the added vases of floral arrangements that stood five feet tall only indicated the extra work that had been put into the event. You stopped yourself from gasping as you felt Kylo's hand find your lower back, guiding you gently to the banquet hall, before he quickly dropped it.

You stopped in your tracks the second you entered the hall. It was an absolutely stunning room, beautiful and expensive, full of lavish-looking people. You held your breath as you took it all in, feeling simultaneously thrilled and out of place. Strange decorations hung from the ceiling, pieces of obscure art that you weren't sure whether to classify as modern or classical. Two dozen round tables with peppered the floors, and low lighting drew your attention to the decorations on top of them: costly looking dishes, more floral arrangements, and candles.

A part of you had hoped that the gala would have more of a cozy reading room ambiance with worn-looking scholars and mugs of tea. Surely, you would have been able to relate more to _that_. But if that was your scene, it wasn't Kylo's; the individuals before you were probably all respectable and accomplished authors, and if they weren't rich before they'd found their success, then they were definitely rich now. As diamond jewelry flashed in every crevice of your vision, it became increasingly clear that the writers in this room were no longer students or up-and-coming professionals like yourself.

You were _years_ behind these people.

Kylo's voice sounded from just behind your ear. "Don't be nervous," he muttered. "Look, that man there—Lando Calrission—in the periwinkle suit jacket, yes," he chuckled. "He's a veteran. And a poet. You wouldn't _believe_ his work; it's absolutely amazing. If you end up meeting him, ask him about his kids, and he'll love you. But don't ask him about his wife. He's divorced.

"Oh, and there," he continued, pointing out a tall, stunningly beautiful woman in a lavender gown. "Guess who that is."

"I have no clue."

"Amilyn Holdo."

"I'm sorry. Holdo?" You whipped around to face him, and grinning, he grabbed your forearm and pulled you aside so the two of you were no longer blocking the entrance.

"The very same. She's had a book on the best-selling list every year since she graduated college. She's a legend. And no mystery how she could afford a donation that landed her a building in her honor. Come on. I want to introduce you to some people."

Kylo paraded you around, and you watched as stuffy-looking attendees broke into grins when they saw him, pulling him into back-slapping embraces. At first, you were positively tense. The first time he introduced you as his TA and writing assistant, every muscle in your body clenched. But the more you began to converse with people, the more you began to realize that no one carried any suspicion about your being there. And no one really _cared._ You were met with kindly pointers, like, "Kylo must think very highly of your writing. What subjects interest you most?" and "oh, be sure to ask Ren about 'such-and-such' internships. It would _highly_ interest you, I'm sure." You explained you were still figuring out your niche and were definitely interested in literature, but at the end of the day you were passionate about writing above all else.

"But she's also excelled in her theory courses," Kylo praised.

"Only because I had a good professor. I don't fancy myself a literary theorist," you laughed, prompting smiles and nods of agreement, one rather drunk man going on how lit theory was his worst and least favorite subject, but that he turned out okay.

"Well, if the school has sent you to this event, they must believe you have great promise," Ms. Holdo explained when you finally had the chance to meet her. She gave you a wink and a smile, and left you feeling weightless at her words.

Eventually, Kylo went off, spotting his old professor in the distance, saying he'd bring him over for introductions after they'd caught up. Alone with your flute of champagne, you watched him go, feeling light, and relieved. Not only was this not as bad as you thought it would be, but you were having a _good time._

But within moments, you realized you weren't alone. You thought the person standing next to you was only there by chance. But after a while, they hadn't moved, and hadn't said anything. Furrowing your brow, you looked to the side.

She was a stunningly beautiful blond woman, who you pegged in her mid to late twenties. Blond and clear-skinned, she stood taller than you on her stilettos, and her glimmering jewelry nearly blinded you when it caught the light in the right way. She was _colossally_ tall, but shaped like a supermodel. More on Kylo's level, you couldn't help but notice—the kind of woman that the more you looked at, the more you hated yourself. She looked at you apologetically when you caught her gaze.

"Sorry. I don't mean to bother you. Are you...you're here with Kylo, right?" she asked, smiling brilliantly.

"Yes. I mean- _no._ I'm not here _with_ him; I'm just his teaching assistant."

"Oh, wonderful. You write, then?"

"I'd like to. I'm still a junior. But, you know, I have high hopes. I'm really interested in interning," you said, wondering if she was a recruiter.

Grinning, she nodded, without looking at you. You followed her gaze to Kylo, halfway across the room, chatting up his old professor and a few other nominees.

"I hoped I wouldn't see him again, but I don't know what I expected." Her words made your brow pinch, though nothing about her was unkind. Softly, she observed him, and seemed glad that she could do so from a respectable distance.

You looked at her, followed her gaze back to Kylo, and looked at her again. "I'm sorry, how do you know Professor Ren?" You asked her.

"We were in the same grad program. That, and we dated- well," she chuckled, quickly correcting herself. "We never technically dated. But tell a woman the things he told me, and what are we supposed to think?" She smiled sadly, and turned back to you. "But what can you do? I'm sure you know by now, he's impossible to crack. And why shouldn't he be? I mean, after what he did to his _father..."_

She looked at you, awaiting your response. The only one you could give her was sheer silence, your face twisted in confusion.

"Oh. You don't know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..." she muttered, chewing her lip. For a moment, she looked away, face full of apology. But soon, she'd turned back to you, eyes urgent and pressing. "Can I give you some advice? Woman to woman."

"I'm not...I don't know what you mean. I'm just a-"

Ignoring you, she seized your hands, gripping them within hers. "Don't try to know him," she warned, voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't think that you can fix him. I'm really sorry to say it, but you can't. It's not that there's something wrong with _you,_ it's just... _no one_ can. Just do your work, get your degree, and _don't look back._ "

The woman's gaze may as well have been a knife to your heart. Her eyes were sincere and somber. For a split-second, you could see years of pain beneath them. She looked almost _desperate_. You got the impression that she genuinely wanted to help. That she wanted to keep whatever happened to her from happening to anyone else. 

From happening to you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but she ripped her gaze away from you. You followed it, and found Kylo, walking back towards you. Before you could say anything else to the woman, she was gone. By the time Kylo reached you again, you couldn't even pull her out of the crowd.

Shortly after, you sat down for dinner. Kylo seemed perfectly at ease. _You_ should have been perfectly at ease. This was an opportunity to spend time together, not to allow any indication that you were in a sense, together, but to talk openly around other people, to be friendly, as _partners_ , existing in your element without fear of consequences. But when he looked at you, you could only manage to give him a very tight smile. Whoever that woman was, her words had nestled painfully into your mind. And now, all you could picture was her urgent expression and her words of warning: _don't try to know him...just get your degree and don't look back._

You nibbled your way through dinner, straining yourself through more small-talk at your table, finding it harder and harder to promote yourself and your work when your first professional opportunity was being Kylo's TA; you weren't sure that taking attendance and grading papers qualified you to be here anymore, and the conversation you'd just had was making you feel more confused and dismal than ever. But you struggled through and hoped it was enough, talking about what you'd like to do in the future since you could hardly talk about your accomplishments without really having any.

The award ceremony stretched on long after dinner, and Kylo's recognition was last on the agenda. Seeing him on stage, accepting his award, made you feel a bit better. Kylo Ren, as you guessed, wasn't one for speeches, and he avoided the microphone as much as he could, even when prompted to say a few words. All in all, he addressed the crowd for what was probably about ten seconds. You thought you heard him thank his undergraduate assistant, among others, but you couldn't be sure. There was a sharp ringing in your ears, and a dull ache at the back of your head.

And you didn't know why the beautiful, nameless blond woman had left such a violent impression on you. For all you knew, she could have been _anyone,_ any vengeful ex-girlfriend who wanted to make life harder for Kylo Ren's next love interest.

But even as you tried to hold onto that possibility, as easier as it would have made things, you knew that it was utter bullshit. Whoever she was, she had no reason to believe that you and Kylo were together. She took one look at you and saw the same sadness and trauma that she felt in herself. Her eyes were wide and understanding, all-too familiar with Kylo and how he operated. You were _sure._ She wasn't trying to ruin anything for anyone.

She was trying to _warn_ you.

You stood by yourself, hovering near the doors, preparing to meet Kylo and head back home. With your third flute of champagne, you stood silently, feeling suitably warm and buzzed, craning your neck to try and meet Kylo's eye. But he was still deep in conversation, shaking hands with colleagues who you were sure were eager to offer him their congratulations. You stared at him so intently that you didn't even notice that someone else had taken a place next to you.

Only when Hux cleared his throat did you notice he was at your side.

Tearing your gaze away from Kylo, you turned to the Dean, stunned to see him, and even more surprised that you hadn't been able to pick out his flaming red hair from the crowd, especially considering he was as tall as he was-- nearly as tall as Kylo.

"A charming event, didn't you think?" Somehow, you didn't like the tone of his voice. You couldn't pinpoint why. He spoke with his hands behind his back, standing dead-forward, without giving you so much as a look.

"Yes," you agreed curtly, with no particular desire to continue talking to him.

"Ren looks rather pleased with himself," Hux said, voice rampant with venom. He said Ren's name like it was a swear-word.

You furrowed your brow, stunned that he would be so forward with a student about his dislike towards Kylo. "Well, he won the award, so I think he's probably pretty happy," you pointed out, puzzled.

Hux smirked. "Indeed. You must be working very hard to keep up with his endeavors."

Your brain felt so foggy, you had to blink deeply and give it several seconds before you could reply. "Actually, yes; he had a publication due this week, so it's been a lot to manage between that and the class I assist with."

"I'm sure he's been keeping you positively overburdened," Hux said shortly. Only then did he finally turn to look at you, eyes flickering downward to examine you like you were an insect before him, one that he was considering squashing. Immediately, you felt your stomach sink and your mind flash with skepticism and mistrust. You had a bad feeling about this. A _very_ bad feeling. "Let's drop the pretenses. Don't presume that it's lost on me why Ren brought you here tonight."

If your insides were dropping before, then now, they had disappeared altogether. You felt empty and numb as Hux considered you with narrowing eyes and an infuriating smirk.

"I don't know what you're implying," you said, internally cursing your voice, which you could barely muster to grow above a whisper, "but I'm here because I'm the top student in this department. The English Department sent me here because I earned it."

"Oh, please," Hux sneered. "There are no _rules_ preventing you from being here tonight. Don't fret. But believe me when I say that your and Ren's little _game_ doesn't fool me in the slightest."

You looked at him, your face muddled with horror and disgust. You hoped that he was good at reading expressions. "You're the Dean," you reminded him, outraged. "Your job is to protect the students and the faculty. This seems like a pretty desperate attempt at revenge," you spat.

"I don't much care what anything _seems_ to be to you. I'm merely reminding you that clambering out of a car with your professor first thing in the morning hardly paints a very good picture. That locked classroom doors are a cause for concern for a man in my position."

"What you're _implying_ here is completely inappropriate," you snapped. "I could take this to the Board. Get you _fired_ for even saying what you're saying to me."

"Only if you're prepared to assure the Board beyond a reasonable doubt that my claims are baseless." Hux smirked. You lowered yourself back down onto your heels, not even having realized that you'd lurched upwards in fury. "Only if I'm wrong."

You swallowed your heart back into your chest. How could he be so sure? He could have a hunch, and if he did, well, he was right. But he would have to have _proof,_ proof to be able to present to the Board, lest his claim be deemed so inappropriate he could be _fired._ No, if he was threatening to rat you out to the Board, then he had to have more than a hunch. He had to have tangible evidence. Otherwise, he risked his job. But how could he have gotten proof? Or was he so stupid to think he could approach the Board with a mere hunch, and risk looking completely skeevy and out of line?

Either way, it wasn't a gamble you wanted to make.

You scowled at him. You _seethed._ But for once, you were at a loss for words.

"Do give Ren my congratulations," Hux said finally. Though I'm sure I'll be able to pass them along myself before long."

And with one last smirk, Hux turned on his heel, hands still plastered behind his back, making him look infuriatingly uptight. And without another look, he was gone. In his absence, within moments, Kylo was striding back up to you, award in hand, a brilliant smile on his face. He looked so blissfully happy, so gleaming and proud, unrecognizable. It was all you could do to bottle in everything you'd learned that night deep inside. To leave him, for the time being, blissfully ignorant.


	20. Nothing is Going to Take You From Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Listen to me very carefully,” Kylo grunted, and in the same moment, you felt his grip around your hair tighten once more, and in a single swift motion, he wrenched you upright, forcing your gaze to meet his in the reflection in the mirror. You gasped, and saw that your skin was gleaming with sweat. A gentle flush brushed across your cheeks and chest. “No one, and nothing is going to take you from me. Not Hux. Not anyone. Nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trash

You briskly entered the apartment under Kylo's arm without even having to duck. _He_ was unbothered. But you weren't as unconvinced as he was.

"I just don't understand," you told him, marching into the foyer without even turning to look at him. "He practically threatened to tell the Board. He'd have to have definite _proof_ if that was the case."

For a short amount of time, you'd considered keeping your conversation with Hux a secret from Kylo, just long enough for him to enjoy the pride that came alone with his award. You hadn't been in his car for two minutes, on your way home, by the time he had flagged that _something_ was bothering you. Of course, little did he know, there was more than just Hux on your mind. You'd had two extremely discouraging conversations at the gala, though you kept the one you had with Kylo's apparent ex-girlfriend to yourself...for now.

One crisis at a time.

"He doesn't have proof," Ren said blankly, irritated. "He can't. We've been too careful."

You scoffed, whipping around to look at him. " _Careful_ isn't exactly the word I'd use _._ " Several _private sessions_ had taken place _on school grounds_ between you and Kylo. In the moment, it was bliss—pure, delicious _danger._ Now, it felt like the most idiotic thing you'd ever done. You shook your head, releasing your lower lip, which you'd been gnawing on, from in between your teeth.

"Are there security cameras in your office?" you pondered aloud.

"No."

"What about—" you gasped, your hands flying to cover your mouth, which had dropped open. "In the elevator? Remember?"

"They never installed cameras," Kylo said, taking a commanding stride forward to close the space in between you. "Do you really think I'd be that shortsighted?" His hands found your wrists and brought them down from your face. You felt your back straighten.

"Well, you're hardly the least impulsive person I know," you retorted. Your voice was small but your eyes sharp, flickering back upward to meet his. He captured you there, eyes narrowed, before the tension between you finally snapped.

His lips were on yours before your eyes could shut. The second they met, you felt the panic inside you finally dissipate, a need finally quenched. Inhaling sharply through your nose, you pressed closer against him, panting as your lips crashed and fought. Your hands were flying until you could feel his cheeks under your fingertips. In two commanding strides, Kylo had you stumbling backwards until your butt hit the edge of the entryway dresser. Your breath hitched in response.

Kylo's hand went to your jaw, and he wrenched your around with little effort. Instantly, your ass was at his crotch. You wondered how long he'd been so hard. The thought ignited you with excitement.

At the top of the entryway dresser was a large, ornate mirror. Gold-trimmed and surely ten feet wide at the least, it hung spaciously on the wall, and at the moment, was giving you a particularly nice glimpse at Kylo, and...well, yourself. You stared at your reflections. Kylo's palm completely encompassed your jaw, his grip tense and commanding. His chin rested at your temple. Your eyes met in the mirror, and you felt a surge of lust. Absentmindedly, you squirmed beneath him, your gaze never leaving his through the reflection of the mirror. Your eyes pleaded with him, _begged_ for his touch.

He smirked as he watched—and felt—your needful, writhing motions, his cock twitching in response. His fingers tightened around your jaw, and your mouth fell open. You didn't even try to stop the moan that stumbled out of your throat. All the worries in your mind were temporarily muted, live and well in the back of your head, but drowned out by Kylo, who was breathing heavily from behind you.

His fingers teased your lower lip, and you didn't hesitate greedily wrapping your lips around them, lifting your chin forward to take them down to the knuckle and sucking back up to their tips. He hissed in your ear.

"You've wanted this all night, haven't you?" Kylo purred.

"So have you," you retorted, your voice silky and filled with lust.

Grimacing, Kylo swiftly moved his hand to find your jaw again, this time ungently, palm and fingers smacking against your skin as it landed on your cheek. You cried out softly, and as your head fell to the side from the impact, he wrenched it upright again.

"Open your eyes," he ordered. "And look at me."

You did as you were told. Your eyes met his reflection once more. You trembled with anticipation and lust, practically buzzing beneath his grip.

"I don't think that sluts like you are in any position to be talking back. Not when you're clearly so desperate to get fucked," Kylo purred, eyes darting downward only for an instant to look at your ass.

You writhed and moaned in response.

Kylo smirked. And then he pushed his grip upward, wrenching your head back, your gaze now forced up towards the ceiling, your breath significantly more strained. "I'm not quite sure you heard me," he muttered, hand falling to your neck and squeezing. You could feel your pulse battering against his fingertips. "I think you'd better respond properly."

"Yes, professor," you responded, writhing beneath him more, if that was possible, your vertebrae screaming at the slightly contorted angle of your body: ass pressed back against his hard cock, back arched, head facing upwards.

"Yes. _Sir,"_ he corrected, giving you a harsh warning-squeeze.

You whimpered. You could practically feel yourself dripping with want. "Y-yes, sir," you choked quickly.

"Good girl." Kylo's words were like honey, warming your whole body. He released the tension around your throat, sliding his hand down your neck before groping your breasts with both hands. "Good girls get fucked when they behave," he purred, eliciting another moan from you. "Can you behave for me?"

Your lips pressed tightly together, you nodded as best you could.

"I'd like to think so. But last time I checked, good girls wear bras." His hands went to the middle of your back, and ripped down the zipper to your dress. The front of the gown fell open, revealing your bare breasts. You hadn't opted for a bra since it was so low-cut in the back. Kylo smirked when he saw you nude and uncovered, groping you roughly between his palms. "So fucking naughty," he moaned, lips diving to your neck, where he sucked roughly against your skin. "You thought you'd tease me all night, hmm?"

Your eyes fluttered shut and you whimpered beneath his kiss. "N-no, please."

"Please what?" He muttered against the crook of your neck. His breath buzzed across your skin. "You want to show me you can be a good girl?"

You nodded heartily.

With the sound of rattling metal, you heard his belt buckle go free, and the sound of a zipper indicated that he was unsheathed. Suddenly, he roughly hiked up your skirts. All the fabric of the gown was gathered at your waist. Kylo's hand snaked through your hair and forced you downward. You caught yourself on your forearms, which propped you on the top of the dresser. Through the reflection, Kylo watched you watch _yourself._ You were naked save the fabric pooled around your waist, breasts exposed directly before your own gaze, hair tousled from his grip. You breathed heavily and watched your chest rise and fall, your lips part with want.

With a flick of Kylo's wrist, you felt, unmistakably, the head of his cock tease your wet folds. You deepened the arch in your back. "Good girls beg for this cock."

"Kylo, please," was all you could manage.

You felt his fistful of hair tighten as your scalp burned from the sensation. His lips never left your ears when he growled, "I know you can do better than that. I've heard that filthy mouth of yours before. Let's not pretend you're anything other than a desperate whore." You felt his breath quicken as he watched you writhe beneath him. His cock twitched at the base of your entrance. You gasped. "Isn't that right?" he growled. "That you're _desperate_ for this cock?" With his hand gripping his length, he slid it up and down your folds. It was all you could do not to push back on it. One swift motion and you'd finally have him inside you. You _burned_ for it.

With your fists clenched and trembling on the dresser, you stifled a moan. "Yes," you replied finally. "I'm desperate for your cock. I _need_ you inside of me. _Please,_ Kylo, _fuck me_."

Kylo slid into you with little effort; you were dripping with arousal and it took nothing for his length to become fully coated. You hummed in gratification as you felt him fill you at last, your jaw dropping open and head falling backwards, face up to the ceiling. Little stars flooded your vision. Soon, nothing filled your ears other than Kylo's rugged, panting breaths, low growls tumbling from his throat.

His pace was as brutal as ever, but it never seemed to get old. Each time he fucked you was just as blissful as the first. With each thrust came the sound of skin against skin, slapping at the forcefulness of the impact.

" _Fucking god,"_ you groaned before you even realized your mouth was open. Under the overwhelming pleasure, the brutality of his unrelenting force, you felt your torso give, collapsing on top of the dresser, breasts flattening against the cool wood. Kylo grunted; you felt his hand snake down the length of your bare back. He admired your gentle frame that wracked with each of his commanding, unforgiving thrusts. Moans of pleasure that you couldn't suppress bubbled from your throat and you whimpered and cried. You could feel him bumping against your cervix, as deep as he could possibly be without rupturing you. And still, you needed more.

"Listen to me very carefully," Kylo grunted, and in the same moment, you felt his grip around your hair tighten once more, and in a single swift motion, he wrenched you upright, forcing your gaze to meet his in the reflection in the mirror. His free hand dipped in between your legs to rub forceful circles against your clit. His fingers were warm. You gasped, and saw that your skin was gleaming with sweat. A gentle flush bloomed across your cheeks and chest. Kylo was perfectly still, other than the movement of his hips that still rolled again and again to meet flush with your skin. "No one, and _nothing_ is going to take you from me. Not Hux. Not anyone. _Nothing."_

Your jaw dropped and your head lolled back to rest on his shoulder. Each thrust wracked your body. One peek at your reflection, you and saw that your breasts were bouncing, and one look at Kylo's face revealed that he was staring at them so intently you half expected his eyes to burn a hole through the mirror. But as his fingers continued to work, all of your surroundings began to melt away. He brought you to the brink of your release, and soon, nothing existed. Nothing but him, and the overwhelming sensation in and around your cunt.

"I haven't given you permission to cum," he commanded suddenly, the words a fierce growl at your ears.

Your jaw dropped open and you moaned in agony. " _Please_ ," you begged. "Please, Kylo, I need to. Fuck. You're too good. I _can't, I can't."_

"I don't know if you deserve it," he grunted through thrusts. The sound of his hips slapping against your ass was becoming louder and louder, drowning you, just as his voice grew more feral. "Tell me why you need to cum."

"Because you're— _ohhhhh, fuck—_ your cock is so fucking good. Filling me up. I feel— _ahhh!_ Kylo, please, please let me cum. I can't- I can't hold it, please!"

"What do you want?"

" _FUCK!_ I want to cum."

Louder slaps. A hand tightened around your throat. "You can do better than that." A smirk in his voice.

"I want to feel you cum inside me. Want you to fill me up. _Please,_ Kylo, I can't hold it anymore, _PLEASE! FUCK_!"

"That's right," Kylo growled mercilessly. "Hux isn't here to bother us. I want to _hear_ you."

You obliged. Just in time, a scream rippled from your throat as hot pleasure seared your core, igniting the rest of your body in violent currents. With one wave, though, it still wasn't done. Pleasure seized your body and kept you at your peak for nearly longer than you could bear. When the heat was at its most intense, you felt Kylo's hips stutter, hot spurts of cum flooding your insides as he growled through his own release. Stuffed with his cock and his cum, you remained rigid and upright until finally, the bliss began to dissipate. You collapsed once more onto the top of the dresser, gasping for breath.

Kylo was still for several moments, nearly collapsed on top of you. You groaned when you finally felt him slide out, wincing as you felt his cum pooling at your entrance, slowly starting to drip down your thighs.

Before you were ready, you felt a hand wrap around your bicep. He wrenched you up for the umpteenth time that night, this time, forcing you against his chest.

Kylo wrapped his arms around you. They were the only things keeping you standing.

"Nothing will take you from me," he repeated. This time, however, he was sober from his impending orgasm. This time, he could really mean it. " _Nothing_."

Your eyes fluttered shut. You stood in his arms, allowing yourself to relax, to go weak. No matter what, he would hold you upright.


	21. Not In The Same Way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo’s stony expression was unchanged. You thought you saw something, something, a sliver of emotion flash in his black, cold eyes, but otherwise, he stood statuesquely, jaw tense, chest filling with slow, heavy breaths, arms hanging tensely at his sides, shoulders slightly hunched, saying nothing, but somehow screaming, ‘I feared this would happen.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to get worse before it gets better.

February was coming along nicely. Things were different between you and Kylo. Better. The way he'd been at the gala, full of smiles, and even _laughing.._.he hadn't shied away from you _at all_ after accidentally telling you that you'd essentially bewitched him against his will. On the contrary, he'd been a complete gentleman at the event. Even though you couldn't act like you were together, it had still felt like a date. Your _first_ date.

It certainly _ended_ the way any good date should.

Looking down at your desk, you smiled at the memory. It was Friday afternoon, and you were in class, a class _not_ taught by Kylo. It had been nearly a week since the gala. You hadn't seen him much that week, save for your classes with him. Apparently, there was more family drama that he was dealing with privately. But even so, this time around, he seemed more put-together about it. He was kind to you, not ignoring you like he did the times before, but explaining the situation and that he was too occupied with it to see you, but that he'd make it up to you as soon as he could. For him, that was more than you could have hoped for. Because it was _progress._

Grinning as you glanced out the window, you thought of the young woman at the gala who approached you, claiming to be Kylo's ex. See? She didn't know him _at all._ He'd _changed_ since knowing you. And now, things were different. _You_ were different. Different for _him._ Better.

But happiness and bliss could change in an instant. And it did. Not ten minutes before your class was set to end did you receive a text from Kylo.

It only said:

_Hux. Meet in Amedda basement after class._

Your breath caught in your throat. _He knew._ He knew, and now he was going to turn you in, both of you. And your lives would be over. Feeling overwhelmingly nauseous, you gathered up your books and binder with trembling hands, stuffing them into your bag. You were shaking so badly that you nearly spilled them all over the floor, but by some miracle you managed it, and dipped out of class early, making a mental note to email your professor later with an excuse.

Amedda Hall was still at the center of campus, but not as far as Holdo Hall, and was conveniently just across the street from your current class. You figured he expected you to come after your class (yes, he was familiar with your schedule so he could frequently badger you to make it to all of your classes), but with the panic that you suddenly felt, it was _impossible_ to sit and wait for your lesson to end. Your heart pounded in your ears. No, this way, you'd be able to catch him as soon as possible.

You crossed the street and ducked into the building, immediately descending into the basement. Amedda Hall was used far less frequently than the other buildings. It housed a computer lab and a few classrooms on the upper floor. But it was impressively old, so its amenities were far less desirable than others. The basement had only a few classrooms which were particularly abandoned. You stood in the hallway, waiting for him, silent. Your legs were shaking. Your whole _body_ was shaking.

You stared at the unpleasantly colored carpet, praying that this was all just a dream, as if the fibers under your feet could pull you out of some trance, and you'd awake back in your bed or in the classroom, and all of this would have proven to be a figment of your imagination.

But that's not what happened. Instead, you heard the door at the top of the stairs open. Kylo Ren, dressed as impeccably as ever, looked more disheveled than you'd ever seen him. With a grimace on his already severe features, he descended the steps, taking two at a time, before grasping your bicep and pulling you along with him, without a word.

He shoved open the door to an empty classroom without even bothering to turn on the light. There were two windows on the far wall, but they were at the very top of the ceiling as you were in the decrepit, old basement. Traditional, wooden furnishings, desks and chairs for one, lined the cold, deserted room. At least it was silent. At least you were alone.

He released your arm to pace further into the room, leaving you breathless and standing in front of the door, watching him fearfully, eyes focused on his back. You could hardly breathe. Your entire chest seemed to compress, like a boa-constrictor had wrapped himself around you and was slowly squeezing you to death.

"Well, what happened?" you finally managed. Your mouth and throat were so dry that you hardly recognized your own voice.

He stopped, placing his hands defeatedly on his hips. His back was still turned to you.

"He knows?" you asked, when he didn't respond.

"He suspects," Kylo replied. His voice was empty. You furrowed your brow, silently urging him to go on. After a few moments of agonizing, tortuous silence, he finally did. "He suspects enough to want me gone. He's tried to have me fired again."

"I don't understand."

"I've just met with him."

"You met with Hux?"

" _Yes_ ," he snapped, face tilting over his shoulder so you could see his profile. His expression was icy.

You felt your insides clench again. You struggled to respond, but were desperate for more information. " _Does he know about us?"_

"He knows," Kylo responded. "But not enough to get me fired."

The air left your body. You were drunk with relief, bracing yourself on a nearby desk. "Thank god," you breathed.

"No. _Not_ 'thank god.' He's seen you coming and going. He knows. He's not stupid. That day outside my classroom, when we'd locked the door... _he knows_." Solemnly, Kylo nodded, as if considering the thought himself, letting himself mull over the weight of the truth.

"But not enough to get you fired," you repeated.

"He's still trying to get me fired." Only then did Kylo finally turn around to look at you. His sharp featured were downturned, resulting in the iciest frown you'd ever laid eyes on. "Citing, for one thing, my absence before finals."

"That was a family emergency."

"It was. But I couldn't disclose details to him, so he's not accepting it as a legitimate excuse."

"You don't have to disclose details. That's private information."

"I can't give him _any_ information."

"Why? Just tell him! If that's what he wants, if that's what you need to keep your job, then just _tell_ him, or make up some story."

"You don't understand my family," he responded quickly, his voice nearly cutting you off. It was rapid and sharp enough to slice the air in front of you. "I couldn't tell him why. And if I did, it wouldn't matter, because he still knows about _us_."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to leave," Kylo responded, as if the answer was simple.

But it was anything but simple. Your stomach leapt to your throat. You felt sick all over again. No-- _no._ He couldn't just _leave._ And he couldn't just be forced out by _Hux_.

You pushed yourself off the desk. You feared that if you didn't move, you'd be sick. Just standing there was making you overwhelmingly nauseous. You tried to swallow down the foul taste in your mouth, but the sick, roiling feeling inside of you persisted.

"We can't let that happen," you sputtered. "You can't just let him force you out."

"Don't you understand?" Kylo asked, lunging forward to close the distance between you, gripping your shoulders. "If I don't leave now, he will grill me and grill me until he has proof about us. If I do leave, I'll be gone, and he'll never know, never _see_ us together again. My leaving is the only way we can be together."

Your heart fluttered at the idea. You and Kylo... _together._ But no...no. It wasn't fair. Wasn't right. You shook his hands off of you, stepping away to pace some more. He couldn't _leave._ He made all the difficult parts of college worth fighting through. He had taught you everything valuable that you'd come to know. You _liked_ your life with him. As long as he could tell you, once and for all, that he _loved_ you.

That he loved you like you knew you loved him.

You breathed heavily, feeling your insides flutter unpleasantly. You wracked your brain amid all the fog and confusion overtaking you, and exasperated, offered, "I just...I can- we can figure this out if you just...if you just _tell_ me what this is! You've kept me on the sidelines for weeks now, and I can't go on not knowing-"

A particularly apathetic-sounding sneer halted you mid-sentence, piercing your heart. You furrowed your brow as Kylo turned to you, his face skewed in frustration. "Don't tell me you're on about this again," he spat.

You retracted your head, stunned, half-unsure of what he was getting at. "I-I don't-"

"Do you really want to know what the future holds for us? What _we_ are?" Kylo gestured between your bodies as he closed the space between you in a single energy-filled step. He glowered down at you from however-many inches above you. Somehow, he felt miles away. "Let me make something perfectly clear to you. We are _never_ going to get married. We aren't going to _be_ together forever. We aren't going to disappear into the sunset and live happily ever after. I don't know what your expectations are, but I'd be disappointed if I learned you were truly so _naïve_. We are what we have always been, and what we'll continue to be. You make me _feel_ good. I make you feel good. On a physical level. We have _never_ been anything beyond that." His voice was more hateful than you'd ever heard it to be before. Suddenly, he sounded like a different person. Suddenly, you weren't sure you knew him _at all._

Understanding hit you soberingly hard, but it was still nearly impossible to accept. You no longer recognized the colossal man in front of you. As the cold gloom of sadness and defeat bathed your body, plunging you into ice, you searched your brain, trying to make any of this come to some sort of sense. Everything was different now. Things had been _better._ Had this come out of nowhere, or had you really been that blind?

You tried to speak, but a distinct lack of organized thought made that difficult. The only thing that came out of your throat was a cross between a scoff and a sob, and you furrowed your brow, desperately trying to make sense of Ren. _Nothing is going to take you from me. Nothing._ Those had been his own words. From mere _days_ ago. And now, he had done a full 180 so hard, that you were surprised he didn't have whiplash.

You had a million questions. _You said you wanted to stay together. Did you mean for us to stay as two people who just fuck? What about when you told me that you cared for me, and that I was tearing you apart? Was that not love? What about all the times I spent the night at your house because you wanted me to stay? What about opening up to me? Did that all mean nothing to you? What about all the things you said? What about when you told me that no one could take you from me? If you only wanted me to_ use _me, then why would you still want to stay together? Am I replaceable? Do I matter to you, or do I not?_ But you couldn't manage _any_ of them. Your throat was dry and you were tired. Questions filled your mind, desperate to burst from your mouth and be verbalized, to seek understanding, but the only one that made it out of your throat was a sad, little, " _what?"_

He exhaled slowly through his nose. Every inch of air that left him lifted his chin just a little bit higher, until he was truly looking _down_ on you, in every sense of the word. Stunned, you slowly began to turn away, feeling like you'd collapse under the heavy weight of his gaze.

"I'm putting in my two weeks. After I've served that time, I'll be leaving the school. I've been offered a position elsewhere, and I'm taking it." You barely heard him. The words rang unpleasantly in your ears, and you felt lightheaded. He wouldn't leave. He couldn't. He hadn't put in his notice yet. There was still time. He could still _change._

You opened your mouth to speak, and then closed it. Then opened it again. You couldn't speak. Couldn't find the right words. There was so much that you wanted to say, but you couldn't sort it all out. All of the questions swam in your brain, a disjointed mess, weighing you down, confining you to a claustrophobic, torturous sensation. You wanted to run. But you were rooted to the spot.

"I hope that things between us can continue the way they did before. With, of course, the understanding, that that's all that it will ever be between us..."

You stopped listening. Stopped absorbing the words. You weren't sure where, but at a certain point, you stopped hearing anything at all. You just stared ahead, off to the side, your body sitting in the sour reality that felt akin to being plunged into a bath of ice.

"Well?" He raised his voice. It shook you from your lethargy, pulling your head back towards the voice that called out to you.

"Well, what?" The words cracked on their way out.

"Well, will you stay with me? Will you still be with me?"

You looked away again, brow pinched in thought, mulling over what Ren was offering you. He was offering you his hand, cards laid bare, the same as they'd ever been, they way you'd failed to realize they were. To stay with him, to _be_ with him, but to not really be with him at all. To be used for pleasure, but to feel pleasure in return, but never to be given the one thing you finally understood that you were missing.

He'd never give you the love that you so freely gave him. He would take it away, ripping it farther and farther back from your desperately-reaching grip with every accidental, slipping indication that you wanted it. It would tear you apart. Ren already _was_ tearing you apart. You didn't know how much you could take anymore.

"No." The words left your lips, an upward lilt to your voice, as if the answer was obvious.

Turning to him, you saw his brow furrow in confusion. "No?" he repeated.

"No," you replied, the same way as before. "No, I've given you everything I can. I've made it so clear how much I care for you. I've come when you've called, I've agonized over your obvious _indifference_ toward me time and time again," you spat, voice rising. "How many nights have I spent unable to sleep because all I can think about is _you?_ How many times have I cried, have I _waited,_ have I trusted that you would come around because I can't have been staying so patient for nothing?" Your hands flew to your face, and outraged to the point of disbelief, you _laughed._

"I have made it perfectly clear on more than one occasion that I care about you."

"Not in the same way."

Kylo's eyes narrowed. You weren't sure if he was sizing you up, or debating the correct answer in his head. He settled on one you still couldn't accept. "Nothing has to change between us. Just because we're not _together_ doesn't mean we still can't _be-"_

"You're wrong," you said, taking a step back, desperate to put in more space between you. Because the more you looked in his eyes, the more you could feel your heart wilting in your chest, a gentle flower slowly being snuffed out. " _Everything_ has changed. Because I love you, and you will never love me back."

Kylo's stony expression was unchanged. You thought you saw something, _something,_ a sliver of emotion flash in his black, cold eyes, but otherwise, he stood statuesquely, jaw tense, chest filling with slow, heavy breaths, arms hanging tensely at his sides, shoulders slightly hunched, saying nothing, but somehow screaming _, 'I feared this would happen.'_

So you stared on, waiting for him to speak. You furrowed your brows, confused and in disbelief when he didn't. He just stared back, brows barely pinched, face as empty as ever, giving you the impression that he regretted putting you in this situation, but was just apathetic enough to make your heart clench, threatening to shatter in your chest and leave splinters in its wake.

Your voice trembled with impending tears that wet your lower lashes, but you held strong, even as your chin began to quake. "I can't be _with_ you if I'm not...if I can't _be_ with you. Either there was never a chance you'd love me at all, so I'm better off without you, or you _do_ love me, but you'll never admit it, and I'm better off without you. Unless, of course, you can. In which case, tell me now, or so help me god, I'll give up on you forever."

You stared back at the empty man in front of you, half expecting the stone walls to come down, and expose the broken, crumbling soul you knew was buried deep inside in its wake. But just as you should have predicted, the walls were too high, too strong, and nothing could bring them down. Certainly not you. Blank eyes stared back at you. He looked at you as if you were an unfortunate battle casualty. As if he thought, ' _I wish she could have been spared. But alas...'_

You wondered if he even felt anything at all.

You felt the tears spill over your cheeks, but you didn't try and stop them. You let them fall, working your breath to suppress the violent sobs that threatened to overtake your body. You had to keep them under control; once they started, you knew you'd be at a loss to stop them. Knowing this conversation had to come to an end, you parted your trembling lips to speak to him, for the last time.

"I hope when you lie awake alone at night, you can't sleep because you know that you were in the wrong. You never should have said you cared about me." Your voice shook, but you lifted your trembling chin in defiance. "Because it was a _lie._ You've never cared about a soul other than yourself." Your voice was reduced to a whisper, and you spat out the words. They were all you had against him anymore, and you hoped that their impact was strong enough to leave craters in their wake. You imagined them hitting him hard in the chest, blowing holes in his thick muscle and bone, reducing him to slivers.

You turned on your heel so quickly, the tears brushed backwards on your cheeks. You rushed from the room, out of the basement, and up the steps. Only when you were finally out of the building did you allow yourself to give into the angry sobs that bubbled and wracked in your chest. Exhaling, you let them overtake you at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I’ve noticed a lot of really sweet comments lately, not just about kylo ren, the daddy to us all, but also about my writing. And just wanted to take a sec to thank you all. You have no idea as an aspiring (and failing?) writer, how much your support and love means to me. As a young 20-something in the middle of a pandemic, and who was already questioning the course of my life and what I’m going to do with it, it’s super easy to feel lost and invisible. It’s been my dream to write for a long time, but the chance that I’ll fail usually means that I suppress my ideas because what’s the point if getting published is impossible? So thank you to each and every one of you. You certainly have absolutely no obligation to comment, or even to read, but it warms my cold, dead heart that you do. Love you all.
> 
> edit: I'm here editing/proofing almost a year later and we're still in a pandemic wowowow.


	22. Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesus Fucking Christ. Was trying to distract yourself by enjoying a party too much to ask? All you wanted to do was escape Kylo, and by extension, the situation with Hux. And now, literally every step you took, one of them was cornering you. Who did you offend in a past life that landed you with such an infuriating and cursed existence? Swearing, you wandered about, feeling lost, and having half a mind to go pay Hux a visit. That idea quickly dis-emboldened in your brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is a tough one for you beans, and I love that you’re invested. Keep reading. It will get worse, but it will also get better. Remember the tags from day 1- angst with a happy ending. It’s angst time. But we’ll get to happy time too. Come along for the ride. Go wildcats.

You didn't remember your walk through campus back to your dorm room. You were numb; mentally, physically, spiritually. Within seconds of leaving Amedda Hall, the droning, repetitive thumping of your feet against the concrete lulled you into nothingness; the thirty degree wind was bitter against the thin cotton fabric that lined your arms, but you hardly noticed it biting into your skin. Gooseflesh carpeted your arms, but you didn't register the shudders that wracked your body against the freezing wind. Tears began to freeze on your eyelashes. You blinked them away, letting more tears follow.

You couldn't get the image out of your mind. The way he'd _looked_ at you. Taking you in as if you were an unfortunate but necessary casualty of a war he couldn't stop. Someone who'd got caught in the line of fire. Someone he wished he could have spared, if things had been different. He's looked at you with a passive hint of regret in his eyes, but nothing more. The mental image shattered you from the inside-out. As freezing tears rolled down your cheeks, you wished you could blow away, disappear into dust or snow, and float off into the wind until you were nothing.

You hadn't even realized you'd made it home until a piercing sound cut through your thoughts. The shrill laughter of your two other roommates, Jannah and Kaydel, ripped you out of your dark mind and back into reality. Suddenly, you realized you were standing in your living room, your hand grasping the knob of your suite's door, dripping with snow and shuddering from the cold.

Jannah and Kaydel were sitting on the couch, watching TV, grasping white claws in their hands. You stopped breathing the second they turned from their conversation to look at you.

"Jesus Christ," Jannah breathed. "You look _freezing._ Have you been crying?"

You blinked, sniffling, and wiped your cheek.

"No, it's just so windy out there," you replied, releasing a sob and trying to pass it off as a laugh.

"Oh, god," Kaydel muttered. "Hey, we're going to Finn and Poe's tonight. Are you in?"

"Umm, maybe," you lied, with no intention to do so. "I'll let you know in a bit." That, of course, was code for ' _I absolutely am not going to go, but I'll text you later as opposed to arguing with you about it now."_

You didn't give them a chance to respond before you slipped into your bedroom. You raised a hand; you were shaking. You weren't convinced it was solely from the cold. Your legs buckled as you shrugged your bag off of your shoulder. Finally, you closed your eyes, letting the darkness that was creeping like a malevolent, cursed fog at the edges of your mind close in, and overtake you. You fell to your knees. They scraped against the linoleum floor, shooting sharp pain through to the bone. You only halfway noticed. Violent gasps wracked your chest. You tried your best to muffle them into the back of your hand. Soon, you found your way into a curled position on your side. You stayed there for a while, losing your breath, hiccupping through angry tears and uncontrollable sobs. If Jannah and Kaydel could hear you, they didn't say anything. Soon, they didn't matter. Nothing mattered, or even existed. The darkness was closing in on you, and you could no longer fight it. You let it swallow you, and you imagined yourself sinking into the floor so deep the foundation of the building swallowed you too, down into the earth, where you could disappear.

You awoke some time later. You didn't know how long it had been, but the light outside your window was gone and you no longer heard the chatter and laughter of Jannah and Kaydel on the other side of your door. Though your eyes were crusted with tears, you felt surprisingly empty. Sitting up to prop yourself on your hands, you waited for the sadness to overtake you again, but it didn't come. You felt surprisingly barren given what Kylo had put you through, but not entirely. You furrowed your brow, pondering the sensation. It was like your insides were dark, the only thing still alive within you the deep, aching anger that lined the pit of your stomach, deep enough to make you feel sick.

Wiping your eyes, you raised yourself to stand on shaking legs.

Rose was in the living room when you finally emerged. Your body stiffened; suddenly you became aware that your eyes were undoubtedly puffy and red, and you didn't feel like answering her questions if she thought someone had hurt you. You didn't feel like mentioning Kylo Ren's name ever again.

"Hi," she said softly, closing the book she was reading as she looked up at you. Her expression was full of sympathy and concern. It made you even more tense. "Are you okay? Jannah and Kaydel said they thought they heard you crying, but didn't want to bother you. I said I'd check on you when you-"

"What time is it?" you asked, shutting your eyes. The moment you opened your mouth to speak, your head began to ache, like there was a miniscule miner in your brain, chipping away at the inside of your skull and sending blood pulsing so hard in your ears it was actually audible.

"Ten."

Jesus Christ. You'd spent the last five hours passed out on your bedroom floor. "Okay, look," you replied quietly, but firmly. "I really don't want to talk about it. It's really not worth it. Can we just...get ready for Poe's party?"

Visible surprise broke onto Rose's face, and she gawked at you. "Really? I didn't think you'd...I mean, would that make you feel better?"

"Yeah," you lied. "Yeah, I think it would." You knew that wasn't the case, but the thought of staying in your tiny dorm for any longer made you feel like you were about to go insane. You needed to get out, to keep moving, to run away from whatever you were feeling and never stop. Not wanting to stay in the same place for long, and in fact, already feeling like the walls were closing in on you, you ran your hands through your hair. You hoped Rose couldn't see the tension that you could feel suffocating every muscle in your body. "I'm gonna go get ready," you told her through clenched teeth. For a millisecond, you worried that she noticed, but dropped the thought almost immediately.

You put on the tightest outfit you could find and did your makeup in record-time, eager to get the hell away from the room that you'd just had a breakdown in. Within fifteen or twenty minutes, Rose was standing in the bathroom mirror with you, carefully wrapping strands of your hair around a curling wand. You avoided her gaze as much as you could, knowing that doing so was likely making her suspicious. You couldn't tell if her tightly narrowed, almost scrutinizing eyes were in response to your clearly uptight demeanor, or your stubbornly messy hair that she was trying to perfect. You figured you didn't want to know, so you stared ahead at your own reflection.

There was no denying your under-eyes were puffier than usual, but a layer of concealer was sufficient enough in covering up the red splotchiness. Under low light, you were relatively confident that no one would notice. You blinked at your reflection, half surprised that it blinked back at you. You felt like you were staring at a different person, standing rigid and silent and somehow alone, even though Rose was standing so close you could feel her breath fluttering against your right ear. You looked darker than your usual self. You weren't sure if you went too heavy on the eyeshadow, or if it was something else, something coming from within you. The sadness you'd felt earlier still hadn't returned. The deep anger still lingered. But you pushed it down, imagining a hydraulic press inside of your torso smashing it completely.

After your strange examination of yourself in the mirror, you set off. The Uber ride with Rose was quiet, and therefore, awkward for the two of you. You knew that your silence meant that she now knew something was up without a doubt, but you were grateful that she read the room, per se, and kept quiet. Meanwhile, you envisioned Kylo getting hit by a truck.

You didn't realize the panic that had set itself inside you until you stepped out onto the sidewalk in front of Finn and Poe's rented house. You looked up at it; a small, shitty, old structure in historical Boston, dim porchlights lighting the way inside. You could tell from the undrawn windows that the overhead lights were off, but that the party was raging alive and well inside; color-changing strobe lights flashed so bright that you felt yourself squinting from yards away, and the muffled booming of loud music was practically making the whole block tremble. You took a deep breath, suddenly wishing you had stayed burrowed in the safe hole of your bedroom, suddenly noticing that you looked _different,_ a reflection of your anger, and you didn't want people to look at you, suddenly considering turning on your heel and bolting down the block, running the two miles back to campus if you had to.

But before you could, Rose tore her cheerful gaze from the house to set it on _you_ instead. "Well, let's go, then!" she exclaimed, smiling brightly as she set up the porch steps.

All you could do was sigh, and begrudgingly, follow.

You quickly found your friends just inside the living room, and you were startled to see Finn sitting in the lap of Poe, who had his legs spread slightly, emitting the very Poe-esque laziness that you'd come to love. But you retracted your neck, suddenly wondering when _this_ became official, or at least public. When they returned slightly confused expressions, you were flooded with guilt. You supposed you hadn't been spending any time with them lately, and wouldn't have known how their relationship was developing.

One positive of all this, at least, was that maybe things could finally go back to normal.

You answered questions as vaguely as you could when your friends bombarded you them, solely to make up for your absence the last few weeks. Within five minutes, you'd had to tell them that it was Kylo that was keeping you so busy and no, it hadn't worked out with "tinder guy," and that's all you were going to say about it because you didn't want to talk about it now, or ever. You noticed Poe cast his gaze downward and off to the side, but you didn't think it was guilt that flooded his features. He was deep in thought, so you changed the subject before he could argue.

You grabbed a drink, and settled in to catch up with Finn, Poe, and Rose. It was like an echo of the old times, even though so much had changed. You listened as Rose filled everyone in on how her engineering independent study was going, and how she was going to an upcoming award ceremony to receive a scholarship and recognition. That, to your deepest regret, brought your mind back to Kylo, and how _normal_ everything had seemed when you were at the award ceremony with _him._ That night, you would never have imagined that you'd be where you were now within a week. Six days was all it had been, and you felt like you'd aged a lifetime.

With a heavy presence of guilt, you felt your attention thinning as you were filled with thoughts of the last person on the face of the earth you wanted to think about. Still, he was at the forefront of your mind. You weren't sure, but every few moments, you thought you saw, out of the corner of your vision, Poe, trying to catch your eye. You averted your gaze.

It wasn't until the conversation had shifted to professors who helped Rose with her study to faculty in general, that a name yanked your concentration back into existence.

_Hux._

"What?" You practically spat, jerking your head back to Finn, who was looking at you with a somewhat surprised expression. "Sorry, I missed that. What did you say about Hux?"

"Oh." Finn blinked. "Just that we have to be careful about him. He lives a block over."

"Has a stick up his ass," Poe added for good measure.

"Yeah, we can't invite underaged students over anymore unless we know them well enough. The guy called the _cops_ on us once last term, do you remember that? A handful of sophomores got MIP's. It was insane. Don't you remember?"

You stared back with incredulity. "I literally never knew that Hux lived down the street from you," you replied, before excusing yourself to the kitchen.

Jesus Fucking Christ. Was trying to distract yourself by enjoying a party too much to ask? All you wanted to do was escape Kylo, and by extension, the situation with Hux. And now, with literally every step you took, one of them was cornering you. Who did you offend in a past life that landed you with such an infuriating and cursed existence? Swearing, you wandered about, feeling lost, and having half a mind to go pay Hux a visit. That idea quickly dis-emboldened in your brain.

The party dragged on, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't seem to muster any bit of pleasure or fun. You'd move from the kitchen to the living room to dance and found yourself feeling just as miserable as you had before, so you'd go to the porch to talk with the people smoking outside to find that the horrible, despondent sensation was chasing you wherever you went. Your tactic was to try to keep yourself busy—that, and to drink as much as possible.

After rushing through two solo-cups of jungle juice, you found yourself alone in the kitchen once more, enjoying the cool breeze from the opened back door against your flushed skin. You felt sufficiently tingly; in fact, you could hardly feel your mouth, and somehow, you were still plagued with thoughts of Kylo Ren. You stared into your drink, a dangerous mix of Everclear and god knows what else (it was no wonder you were drunk after two drinks,) as if the see-through, liquid contents would conjure some answers. You concentrated on the bottom of your cup. Nothing came.

Only the sound of shuffling feet tore you from the strange, drunken trance that you found yourself in. You looked up to see Poe, entering the kitchen with his arms crossed, looking at you like he was your dad and you hadn't done your homework even though you'd promised him you would.

Immediately, you swore under your breath. You _knew_ he had a bone to pick with you, after the strange looks he was giving you earlier. Now, stuck under his gaze and stuck, more literally, in the kitchen with him, his significantly larger frame blocking the entryway, you felt like a slide under a microscope.

"Get it over with," you muttered. "I know I haven't been around much. I haven't been there for you and Finn. I'm sorry. I've just been..."

"I'm not upset with you," he said. His voice wasn't ungentle, but there wasn't a conclusiveness to his tone, either. You knew there was more coming. "It's Kylo Ren."

"Fucking what about him?" you slurred, looking away, face screwing in disgust.

"I'm smarter than you all think, you know," Poe replied, his tone sharper now. "I saw the way he looked at you that night in the bar a few weeks ago. I see the way your face gets all twisted whenever someone mentions your work study with him. Now, for example. I don't know how it's lost on everybody else, but it's not lost on me."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you spat. But even, then, you didn't raise your gaze back up to look at him. You felt your lower lip tremble, and internally cursed yourself out. Why did you have to be so _weak_ at a moment when it really mattered? But on the other hand, why did he have to seek you out, when all you wanted to do was stop thinking about your professor?

Poe said your name. His voice was soft again. It almost made you feel like you could look at him. Almost. "So it didn't work out, huh?" You set your jaw against the gentleness of his words. "I get it. I mean...I can imagine how you must be feeling. But no matter what, you can talk to me. You can talk to all of us."

Your lip hadn't stopped trembling. You could feel Poe looking at you, so intensely that it made you sweat. A part of you could appreciate where he was coming from, but the angrier, and much more alive part of you, rejected the offer of his kindness. How could he possibly imagine the cacophony of anguish that was _leeching_ you? Christ, you felt ashamed and dirty for fucking a teacher again and again, for relishing in all the filthy things he'd done to you. You felt guilty for taking a TA position underneath him, horrified at coming face to face with the fucktoy that had come before you. What's more was that you felt horrified with yourself for apparently forgetting all the red-flags surrounding Kylo's relationship with his family, foregoing your concern for how he treated his mother and how he'd likely treated his father when he was still alive. And not to mention the cryptic piece of information you'd picked up from aforementioned former-fucktoy who'd cryptically implied he'd _done something_ to his father. You were furious with Hux for ruining everything, but you were now _mutinous_ with Kylo for making you fall in love with him. 

And perhaps most of all in that moment, you felt so enormously undeserving of the continued friendship that Poe was offering you with an outstretched hand and an open heart.

But you couldn't say that. You couldn't begin to say any of it. So instead, you did all you could to steel yourself, setting your jaw so tensely that it stopped trembling. You met his gaze at last. "I really don't know what you're talking about," you repeated coolly, and brushed against his shoulder as you exited the kitchen. Afterwards, you continued to drink, going about your loneliness, surrounded by happy students, bitter in their bright presence, and resolved to fake your way through the night and avoid the only people who knew you well enough to know that something was horribly, terribly wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a million years. I wanted to get it really right since Kylo wasn’t in it. 
> 
> Also, I am toying with a terrible idea.


	23. Collateral Damage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You want me to leave you alone.”
> 
> “Yes,” you hissed again.
> 
> Kylo smirked. Mischief and malice danced in the amber-colored darkness of his eyes. It froze you cold in the place where you stood. Kylo took another step forward, closing the space in between your bodies all together. You couldn’t move. You should have run while you had the chance.
> 
> Curiously, he outstretched a hand, brushing stray pieces of hair off of your forehead and tucking them neatly behind your ear. You tensed under his touch, as if you had found yourself in a predator’s trap, but had no means of escape. “That’s not true.” His voice was no longer above a whisper.
> 
> “It is.” 
> 
> “Really?” You realized the space between you was so thin, you could feel his breath softly flutter against your face. His body was so close to yours, you could have counted each of his pitch-black eyelashes. You tried to pry your gaze away from his, but failed. “Then why haven’t you left?” He muttered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All of you that are calling this a “book” have me in happy tears.
> 
> Also. We reached 800 kudos! Unbelievable! Thank you all!
> 
> \--SLAPPING TW—  
> If physical harm as a kink bothers you or triggers you in any way, then please don’t read this! This chapter includes face slapping as a kink and does not adequately include consent the way your own, nonfictional lives should. ALWAYS remember the importance of consent. ALWAYS have a safe word. ALWAYS call the fucking cops if someone lays their hands on you in a way you haven’t discussed. Our characters have discussed these aspects of BDSM earlier in the story, but don’t in this chapter. In my mind, this is all consensual because they laid boundaries before him, but I understand that this chapter may seem a bit grayer. Please remember the importance of these things in your everyday lives and stay safe!

Two weeks since you'd last spoken to Kylo had come and gone. You half expected him not to put in his notice, but he did. It was strange, reading the email that he sent to your class, that another professor would be taking over in two weeks' time. For the entire duration you'd been at college, you knew Ren to be the brooding and foreboding English department head. It was nearly impossible to picture him as anything different.

The two weeks went by in a daze. You didn't speak after class. You barely looked at him. Every time you sensed his eyes on you, you felt as though you'd crack under his gaze. You averted his eyes under all costs, waiting. Waiting silently for him to come to you, to tell you that he'd been wrong, that he'd been cruel, and that he wouldn't leave, and that he wanted you by his side.

He never did.

Friday, two weeks later, finally came around. It was his last day of teaching. You sat at your small desk that was positioned next to his. You didn't look at him as he lectured. You sat with your knees pressed together, your entire body clenched, fighting tears. You hadn't expected his last day to come around. You were sure that by this time, he would have taken back his notice. He would have said that he was staying after all.

But his last day was here. You were living it. You almost couldn't believe it. It was sobering. Numbing. Perhaps the first wake-up-call came earlier in the week, when you got your first email informing you of your new assignment. You'd stay on as TA for the professor that would replace Ren. That had been an eye-opener for sure.

You didn't listen as he lectured, couldn't focus if you tried. The same ringing in your ears that had been present the last time you spoke was ever-present and _deafening._ You stared ahead, wishing you were invisible, yet unable to bring yourself to care that you weren't.

Halfway through class, you took to staring at the clock on the back wall. 30 minutes left. 20 minutes left. There was still time for him to take back his notice. To stop class, to announce that he was staying after all. 10 minutes left. Then 5. Then 1. And when the clock hands were mocking you with the declaration that the period had come to an end, it was the final blow.

Once Ren had dismissed the class and given them a short and emotionless farewell, you sat firmly in your seat even as every student before you gathered their things and prepared to leave. He wasn't staying. This was it.

You felt empty.

With a shuddering breath, you finally stood, your face tense and set firmly to try and hide the trembling of your jaw. You remained silent as you gathered your bag, gripping the strap as you slung it over your shoulder. And then, you turned to him, to take one last look at the man you loved.

Kylo was already staring at you. He remained silent as the rest of the stragglers headed from the lecture hall and into the hallway before exiting the building altogether, eager to get back to their dorms, apartments, or houses, undoubtedly excited to enjoy their weekend, to have fun, feel alive, like anyone your age should.

You couldn't imagine feeling alive or happy ever again.

And it was his fault. Your eyes narrowed at him. A strange emotion flooded your body, one you didn't recognize. It was like hatred, but it wasn't quite there. You were furious with him, but couldn't quite bring yourself to hate him no matter how hard you tried. You felt betrayed, you felt neglected, but couldn't will yourself to turn on him completely, even though you longed to.

The double doors at the top of the stairs clanged shut as the final straggler left the room. You heard the thudding clunk of metal and the hiss of the last trace of air through the cracks, and the sound jolted straight through your heart.

You straightened your back and inhaled, the air rattling on the way into your lungs as it dawned on you that you were alone once more, maybe for the last time. You stared at him and he stared back, both of you silent, resilient, close and yet farther apart than you'd ever been before.

He was the first one to speak. "I've decided to vacate my home in Back Bay."

"Really."

"Yes."

"Are you moving from Boston?"

"No. I'll still be in the city, but I've decided that a change in scenery might be good for me. I'm tired of being reminded of my mother and father everywhere I look."

"That's a real shame," you responded, hoping the judgement was as plain in your face as it was in your voice. You remembered suddenly another confusing part from your conversation with the woman at the gala; she'd said Kylo had _done something_ to his father. Everything had seemed all well and good after the fact, the details slipping your mind. Now, they seemed to be pounding at your skull.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"You shouldn't, since you failed so spectacularly in telling me about them."

"Well, I guess it wasn't any of your business."

"I guess it wasn't," you responded icily. You felt your face contorted into an enraged grimace. You couldn't imagine it looked very pretty, but you could hardly care less about what Kylo thought of you at this point. He was a monster in your eyes. What did in matter what you were in his? "So, you're selling it? All because you're mad at your parents? You're just going to give up your father's house?"

"I'm not selling it." His brows lifted just barely. "I'm just vacating for the time being."

"Right. I forgot you're made of money. Kind of makes it harder to feel sorry for you," you scoffed, turning to go. You could feel this conversation sucking the lifeforce out of your bones. You had no desire to stay and talk with him if this would be the last memory imprinted on your brain of Kylo Ren. You'd hoped your story would have a happier ending. The opposite was proving to be true, so why prolong what was too agonizing to endure?

Kylo was silent for a moment. He stared at you with the same impenetrably stony gaze that you recognized so well, that you felt you'd been seeing for all your life. But you'd only known Kylo had existed for three years. And really, he'd been in your life so little, in retrospect. So how could he possibly have the effect on you that he did? His jaw tensed. You watched the muscle tighten, a vein under his skin bulging slightly before he relaxed. Your heart tripping, you caught his eyes. They softened slightly, narrowed, and he furrowed his brow. Now, he looked at you with an almost inquisitive curiosity. You felt like a bug under a microscope in comparison to him.

"Why have you been avoiding me?" he asked.

Was that supposed to be a fucking joke? "I'm sure you can imagine why."

"I can imagine a lot of things," Kylo muttered, "But I'd rather hear it from you."

You sighed heavily through slightly flared nostrils, your lips a tightly shut line. "Because I don't want to see you," you told him curtly. "I don't want to see you, or speak to you, or listen to your voice. It...it's so _tiresome_ trying to exist under your influence, and I'd like to get my life back under control. And you're leaving, so it finally can. I just want everything to be as it was before."

You'd said more than you'd expected to before you'd started speaking. You stood strongly before him, jaw set, eyes wide and honest. You didn't falter or back down. What you wanted was for him to leave you alone...under the circumstances. That much was _true—_ because he was really leaving, and because he didn't love you back. You wanted to forget him, because these were the circumstances you were given.

But beneath that, if you could upend it all, rip up the foundations of the hand you'd been dealt—then, well, you'd change the hand.

But that wasn't a possibility. That wasn't reality. So, you had to believe what you were saying, because that's all that was in front of you. He was leaving. He didn't love you. He never would. And you couldn't change that. So, in his place, you wanted everything he'd taken. The time from your friends, your happiness, your ignorance, your independence. God, you wished you could be independent again.

He pondered you, silently sizing you up. You narrowed your eyes in response, squaring your jaw at him, hoping you were an unbreakable wall in front of all the things in your mind you prayed he couldn't read, because frankly, you weren't convinced he hadn't read it before, what with the way he could analyze you.

He was silent for long enough, that for a moment, you thought he would let you go. But Kylo had never let you go before, and you shouldn't have expected him to let you go now.

"You want me to go," he muttered in response.

"Yes," you responded tightly.

Kylo Ren took a step forward. Once more, your heart skipped in your chest. You took a brisk step backwards as he advanced on you, but not nearly as fast as you should have. Still, you stumbled over your own foot. Catching yourself with a small gasp, you tried to increase the distance between you. He only moved to narrow it.

"You want me to leave you alone."

"Yes," you hissed again.

Kylo smirked. Mischief and malice danced in the amber-colored darkness of his eyes. It froze you cold in the place where you stood. Kylo took another step forward, closing the space in between your bodies all together. You couldn't move. You should have run while you had the chance.

Curiously, he outstretched a hand, brushing stray pieces of hair off of your forehead and tucking them neatly behind your ear. You tensed under his touch, as if you had found yourself in a predator's trap, but had no means of escape. "That's not true." His voice was no longer above a whisper.

"It is."

"Really?" You realized the space between you was so thin, you could feel his breath softly flutter against your face. His body was so close to yours, you could have counted each of his pitch-black eyelashes. You tried to pry your gaze away from his, but failed. "Then why haven't you left?" he muttered.

You opened your mouth to speak, but found that the only sound that left your throat was a small, nearly inaudible rattling breath. Horrified that words had failed you, that you'd betrayed yourself, you closed your mouth in defeat, your lower lip trembling. For a moment, Kylo took in the sight: you, trying, and failing, to resist him. He relished in your own emotional dilemma, and it made you hate him all the more.

But the moment passed, and then, he was rounding on you. He went from being perfectly still in one instant to swift and foreboding in the next, taking sudden long and rapid strides to pin you to his desk several feet behind you. This was the same place that once, only a few weeks ago, he had taken you from behind. Shuddering at the memory, you stumbled as Kylo walked you backwards, and he did so without lifting a finger. You retreated instantaneously under the mere threat of his gaze. He scowled down at you, as if daring you to challenge him.

You couldn't.

He had you pinned. Caught in his trap, as ever. You remained silent, your chest heaving with heavy breaths in your shock at having been thrown back against the desk without even being touched. You stared up at him, your eyes never once failing to leave his gaze, even as you felt his middle brush against your chest. You swallowed back a whimper and nearly choked as Kylo drew his lips close to your ear. He pressed closer against you as you tried to wriggle away from him, but admittedly, it was a halfhearted effort.

"I know exactly what you're thinking," Kylo warned, "You're thinking of the time I had spanked you, bent you over, fucked you, and yanked up your tights to hold in my cum."

You wished he was wrong. But you whimpered, turning to putty under his hands, thinking of how that time had felt, feeling the echo of his hands on your bare skin. The effect that his words had on you wasn't unlike that of a weapon. They rendered you nearly unable to think, let alone to stand. You would have swayed on the spot, your legs weak, if he hadn't been pressed so firmly against you.

And then, just when you thought you would combust from all the heat that flooded your face and neck, he kissed you.

You wished you could have had the strength to turn away. But your hands were searching for him the instant he dipped his chin towards yours, even before your lips met. Your fingers curled in his hair as he slid his tongue into your mouth. God, it had been so long, _so long_ since you'd touched him. His dark locks were silky under the pads of your fingers, and it was all you could do not to tug on the strands as you fought his mouth with yours. You breathed heavily, gasping for air as you kissed him back, _obscenely,_ trying desperately to somehow make up for two weeks' worth of agony and despair.

But he didn't love you, a small voice in the back of your head tried to remind you. It was hard to hear it over the blood thumping in your ears.

You panted as you pushed on his chest, coming up for air, gasping in lungfuls of breath that you desperately needed.

He leaned back in, lips only brushing against yours. "Don't fight it," Kylo whispered. "You know you can't."

You whimpered again, but his lips were on yours again in an instant, swallowing the sound. His lips crashed onto yours with no tenderness, but in the moment, you didn't care for tenderness. You were hungry, grasping at him again, hands clawing at his body, finding whatever parts of him you could reach.

Despite yourself, _longing_ to resist, you felt your butt hit the desk, felt your legs opening to wrap around his waist and hold him against you. His body brushed against your core, and you shuddered, moaning into his mouth.

Kylo's ungentle hands ripped at the collar of your blouse, springing the buttons open that some of them ripped off the fabric and bounced to the floor. You gasped against his mouth, your lips wet from sloppy, desperate kisses. You felt heat, heat everywhere, and wetness, _fuck,_ you were wet, but you were ashamed.

The voice in the back of your head became louder. You heard the familiar unbuckling of Kylo's belt buckle, and it allowed you to think, to listen, more clearly.

You thrust your head to the side so he wouldn't see the tears that were springing to your eyes, your legs releasing their hold on his waist but remaining open in the air, as you listened to the sound of sliding leather and the unzipping of his dress pants. "Don't do this to me," you whimpered, "Don't do this. Not after I told you how I feel about you."

You whimpered, chin quivering. This wasn't how you wanted to remember him. It wasn't what you wanted your last memory of the two of you together to look like: Kylo, grunting as he plunged into you, heartless, and you, pathetically unable to resist him. You shouldn't want him anymore, couldn't _afford_ to want him anymore. But Christ, his touch was the only thing that made you feel alive anymore, and you were so desperate to feel something.

You were dripping wet, your chest heaving, legs thrust open, telling him not to fuck you, but you _wanted_ him desperately. His hands froze at the unzipped fly of his pants; he held your gaze. He was breathing heavily too.

"What do you want," he muttered.

"I-"

"Tell me. Don't fight it. You can't resist me."

You whimpered again, tears finally spilling over your cheeks, your resistance finally breaking down and crumbling at your feet. "I want _you_. I want you. I want you to fuck me."

Kylo was on you again, lips finding yours roughly, commandingly. For a moment, his hands were gentle on your cheeks, cupping your face lightly, almost tenderly. But after what felt like a mere instant, he pulled them away to work at your jeans, ripping them downwards. You shimmied out of them as best you could with your ass still on the desk, kicking off your shoes, your hands never leaving him. You gripped at his face, his hair, trying to keep him tight against you, as if doing so would keep him there forever. But no...that was impossible. You only had this, this fleeting moment, that somehow had so much power, and made you feel more alive than you'd felt in weeks.

His eyes were on your half-opened blouse and your exposed bra underneath as he pulled his cock free. Briskly, as if he had no time to waste, he lined it up to your entrance and plunged deep into you.

You gasped. Your head rolled back, arm moving to lace around his shoulders and pull him against you. You winced, your face towards the ceiling, as your cunt stretched around his outrageous length. Rarely were you prepared enough to be able to take it easily.

Kylo grunted, his hands on either side of you, lips coming to your ear as he exhaled, long and slowly. His breath brushed your skin and softly blew strands of your hair. They floated gingerly backwards, and fell back down across your shoulder.

After a brief moment of stillness, he drew away, only to slam back into you again. You groaned, this time, your mouth falling open. For once, you didn't care how much noise you were making. All that mattered was the massive cock filling you up, and everything you'd missed in the last two weeks, everything you were so desperate not to lose.

Kylo drew back again and thrust once more, hips coming flush with yours. You wrapped your legs lazily around his waist as you clutched onto him, hugging him against you as he finally began to find a steady, albeit rapid and unforgiving, rhythm. Grunting, Kylo's fingers found your waist, digging bruises into your jutting hipbones. You felt his forehead on your shoulder as he pounded into you with little affection or regard. You missed looking into his eyes, you suddenly realized, but simultaneously weren't convinced you could bear to meet his gaze. The only solace was the indecent guttural groans ripping from his throat; You groaned with your jaw hanging slack, lips kiss-swollen and wet. Raising your hand, you angrily wiped the back of it roughly across both of your cheeks.

You noted the ache in your lower belly with each motion he pounded his cock inside you. You could feel how deep you were taking him, and momentarily doubted your ability to continue. He had a masterful knowledge of exactly how to pleasure you, but his sheer size was scarcely ever easy to accommodate. You burned and ached, but the bliss you felt was undeniable, trumping every shred of pain that came along with his magnitude.

The ungentle, uncaring speed of his thrusts didn't make it easier. He pounded you open, cleaving your cunt and giving you no mercy. He just kept working, kept driving, kept plunging himself into you, grunting and growling in your ear.

Kylo, like this, was something closer to a beast.

Just then, his hips still working at a brutal pace, Kylo pulled away from your shoulder, grasping your jaw in his hands, a feeling that was all-too familiar. You felt your cunt flutter at the gesture, melting into his arms at the reminder of how things used to be between you.

You clamped your eyes shut, face grimaced in emotional pain and physical pleasure. The muscles of your hip-flexors shrieked in discomfort and strain.

You felt him clench your jaw tighter, giving it a warning shake. "Open your eyes," he ordered furiously, never once lessening the unforgiving pace of his angry hips.

You clamped your mouth shut. Wincing, you moaned through your pressed-together lips, air falling from your nose and flitting across his face.

He gave your jaw another jolt, his fingers digging into your cheek. "Look at me," he growled. You winced at the pain blistering your skin from his strong fingers, and your eyes opened. But in a moment of defiance, you struggled against his grip. You tilted your jaw away as best you could, and you didn't dare meet him with your eyes. Your gaze was glued to where his cock disappeared into your cunt. You watched it intently, the sounds of wet skin and breathlessness falling upon your hungry ears.

You didn't dare look up at Kylo. But you could sense his anger even if you couldn't see it.

_CRACK._

You registered the sound before you registered the pain. Your vision was suddenly completely different than what it was moments ago. Momentarily buzzing with confusion, you exhaled sharply as you realized your head had been whipped to the side, and your cheek stung with pain. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Kylo's palm, rigid, trembling, and your cunt dripped at the dizzy realization that he'd hit you.

His hand found your jaw again, wrenching your face back to him. He leaned in so close that the tips of your noses brushed. Not for a second did he release the pace of his hips. He rammed into your cervix with abandon and mercilessness. Despite yourself, you groaned. Your jaw fell slack again, in the same moment that finally, your eyes met his. Your cervix ached in pain.

_"What do you do when I give you an order."_

"I obey," you replied apologetically, your voice rattling with trembles.

"You obey, _what,"_ he demanded furiously.

You stared into his face. His jaw was set, eyes nearly blazing. His brow was drawn in fury, lips twisted into a scowl. It was the first time his expression truly filled you with a sense of fear more than anything else. Still, your heart fluttered in its cage.

"I obey, _sir_ ," you whimpered, cunt blazing with pleasure. Warmth bloomed in your belly and your pussy clenched. You'd tried to resist him. You'd failed. And now, you were chasing your pleasure, and resistance meant nothing.

He growled, capturing your lips with his own, his fingers remaining rigid and firm as they clasped your jaw. You felt the beginnings of purple, peppered bruises all around your jawline. Was that all you'd have to remember him by?

The thought sprung tears to your eyes as your lips battled with his. You kissed him so furiously, hungrily, that wetness smeared your mouth as your tongues clashed. He groaned, and the sound of his hips smacking yours made you go dizzy.

He pulled away, digging his fingers harder into your jaw.

"Open your mouth," he commanded.

Without question, you obeyed. Glaring down at you, and with an obscene smacking sound that practically echoed, he spat directly into your mouth.

You groaned, and he forced your jaw shut.

"Swallow."

You locked eyes. And then you swallowed.

The vision before him seemed to send Kylo into a deeper frenzy. His eyes were wild, locked onto yours like a target as he fucked you. He released a shaky exhale of hot breath. His hips stuttered. He was growing close, you realized, just as you were. The heat in your belly was growing, intensifying, and your cunt was clenching down on him harder than before.

" _Fuck,"_ he breathed, eyes only breaking from yours to admire the pussy that was sucking up his cock. His eyes flickered back up to yours. "Fuck. This fucking cunt was made for me," Kylo growled. You groaned as the walls of your cunt fluttered. You could feel heat overcoming your entire body, wrapping you in inescapable fever and binding you in sweat and redness.

"Look at you," he sneered. "You just can't resist my cock, can you? You can try to pretend all you want, but you melt under my hands." His breath stuttered. Your own breath was mounting in your chest as your climax mounted, too. Still, you glared at him as he fucked you closer to your orgasm. " _Say it,"_ he ordered. "Tell me who you belong to."

Your heart burned with shame and anger. But he was right. You scowled up at him as heavy breaths rattled your frame, your chest heaving violently.

"I hate you," you growled.

Kylo's jaw slack, he pumped into you harder, and with one last violent jolt, his cock sent you over the edge.

Your orgasm shattered and ripped through your muscle and bone, rattling and wracking your body. You threw your head back as white-hot pleasure bound you in indescribable bliss. You bit your lip to suppress the scream that was desperate to escape your throat, you felt a trickle of blood near the corner of your mouth. You didn't care. It didn't matter. _Nothing_ mattered. Nothing but this.

Kylo was seated deep in your pussy when he came. He filled you up from within, hands seizing your waist as his hips stuttered through his orgasm. He released a violent, full-bodied sound, something between a groan and a growl, breath stuttering with each rope of cum that shot deep inside your cunt.

You fell from your peak, jolting through the last waves of pleasure. Kylo pulled away slowly as he chased his breath. For a moment, his eyes met yours. And in that moment, everything was silent and still. Staring at him, all you could feel was hot, furious love for him. And it made you hate yourself all the more.

Kylo drew away, stuffing himself back into his pants, and zipping them up. Your legs fell. Pain splintered through your hips as you finally relaxed them. You thought about how sore you would be. The pain would last a few days, you hoped. The longer it lingered, the longer you'd have proof that all of this had been real.

Whimpering, you pushed yourself off the table, turning away from him as you searched for your jeans and shoes, so he wouldn't see the glimmer of tears on your cheeks. You wiped them away, furious with yourself, and scowled at nothing as you zipped and buttoned your pants.

"You can still have me." His voice surprised you. You turned around, and found him watching you. Face set, jaw tense, eyes devoid of any warmth or emotion.

"I really, absolutely, fucking hate you, Ben Solo," you said.

Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you held him in his gaze for as long as you could before turning away. Tears stung your eyes for the twentieth time in the last hour.

You walked up the steps of the lecture hall, disappearing through the door, leaving Kylo behind for good. It was a lie. It was all a lie. As much as you wanted to hate him, you didn't. You _couldn't._ That's why walking away hurt you so damn badly.

Because as much as you loved him, he didn't love you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Whispers* spoiler alert…we ain’t rid of him yet, ladies and gents.


	24. I Miss the Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unbelievable. It was unbelievable who was sitting before you right then, perched on his lawn furniture like it was a throne, a book in his hand and a charcoal-colored fleece blanket draped around his shoulders. But there he was.
> 
> Your life had become one unfathomable shit-show since Kylo Ren had entered it, and now that he was gone, it still had all the elements of a terrible rom-com. And you resented him even more for leaving such chaos even after he’d left you behind.
> 
> That was one side of the coin. The other side of it was that you knew Hux lived on this street. You didn’t know where, but you knew that one of these shabby, harbor-style houses would be his. Maybe a part of you considered the possibility that he’d be out there. That you’d find him.
> 
> Instead, he'd found you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *looks at Hux* *looks at you* *looks back at Hux* *back at you* again. I’m toying with a REALLY TERRIBLE IDEA, wink wink.

He was really gone.

You had to admit yourself, you didn't think he'd go through with it. Ever since you'd moved to Boston, ever since you'd been admitted to the university, showed up for your first day, bright eyed, full of promise, and hungry to make something of yourself, Kylo Ren had been a constant. Three years floated by, and he'd been there. Never approachable, never reachable; for those three years, you didn't so much as speak to the man. But he was always there. Always unapproachable, always unreachable. And in that time, you floated along too. Curious. Curious to learn, curious about _him._ And even though for those first years, you never dreamed that you'd come to know him the way you knew him now; something about the permanence of it all was comforting. He was Kylo Ren. The broody, terrifying head of the English Department. There was no way he could go.

But he went anyway.

Up until the moment you turned away from him in the lecture hall and climbed up those stairs like you were climbing through the shadow of the valley of fucking death—no, later than that— up until the moment you walked into that same lecture hall the following Monday, and another professor was standing in the place where he once stood, you hadn't been sure it was real. Hux, Kylo, none of it. But as you sat through that class, the TA to Kylo's replacement, Professor Kryze, you weren't sure _any of it_ had been real.

You weren't sure Kylo Ren had been real, let alone the time you'd had with him.

The only thing you had to remember him by was the red patch on your cheek, and that had faded within the hour. Beyond that, the bruises peppering your hips had withered to a dull yellow, indicating that they, too, would soon be gone. He'd never given you a shred of evidence that he hadn't been a dream...or maybe, a nightmare.

"Are you paying _any_ attention right now?"

You snatched your head upright.

You were propped up against Finn's legs, him on the couch and you, on the floor, the hardwood digging unpleasantly into your ass bones. You had a book, but it was discarded next to you, and your laptop screen had long since gone black. But you supposed a study session with your closest friends was bound to end in distraction one way or another.

"Yes," you responded blindly. It was worth a try.

"Oh, yeah, sure," Rose snorted. "You look positively _focused."_

You sighed and rubbed your eyes, banishing all thoughts Kylo-related. This was a common exercise for you. Shoving him deep back into the dark crevices of your mind, out of sight, where he couldn't hurt you.

"Are you ever gonna tell us?" she asked. "Come on, you know if a guy did you wrong, we'd jump at the opportunity to hunt him down. Show him a lesson for messing with one of us."

Involuntarily, you suddenly locked eyes with Poe. His had a meaningful expression behind them, so much so that it made you hold your breath in your throat, worried he would give his suspicions away. Ever since the party the previous weekend, when he'd revealed to you that he suspected that "tinder guy" didn't exist, and you'd gotten wrapped up with Kylo Ren (literally,) you'd done everything you could to avoid being along with Poe. But the moment passed, and he cast his gaze away, not even indicating that he was listening to Rose at all, or that he knew something that she and Finn didn't.

You exhaled. "You know, I think it's doing me some good just letting him go," you told them. "It's not worth talking about. Really. I finally got the closure I needed, and now, I can heal."

It was utter bullshit. You didn't get closure, you didn't get _shit,_ because Kylo hadn't given it to you. But the act you were holding up was relatively impressive, save for the moments you found yourself deep in thought, mind filled with Kylo and all the questions you had about what the hell you'd just been through, only for you to snap back into reality and not know how long you'd been daydreaming. But the façade was, if anything, effective. Your friends, at least, seemed to think you were improving. Poe was a different story of course, but he kept his head down. You feared that he'd tell Finn the most, since plenty of happy, functional couples choose not to keep secrets, but you decided ultimately that you were hardly an expert on that front, and that you should just be grateful that Finn seemed completely in the dark. You were grateful for Poe, of course, for evidently keeping his suspicions to himself. Didn't make it any easier to look at him.

The hope, of course, was that your façade would eventually morph into reality. And, it wasn't as if you were completely miserable. Seeing your friends replaced the void in your chest at least to an extent. Your saving grace was keeping busy. Once you found yourself thinking of him, you had to rip yourself out of that mindset. Try to forget him completely. It was difficult, and was truly becoming a bit of a practice for you. When you lingered on him for too long, that's when the danger of tears entered the picture. Staying occupied helped. Sure, your mind wandered to thoughts of Kylo more often than you'd care to admit, but you found that you weren't emotionally pliable enough to cry about Kylo half as hard as when you had heaps of schoolwork and TA assignments. Therefore, your work and your studies were your best friends. That, and your actual best friends.

"Well, that's good," Rose concluded, reaching for another book out of her bag. "I, for one, support leaving his memory in the dust."

You forced a smile, and nodded to appease her.

"Plus, who needs men when you have women supporting women? No offense, guys." She waved a hand at Finn and Poe. "I told you about this weekend, right? She's coming with me to accept my grant," Rose explained.

You were excited to be going to another gala, and grateful when Rose had asked you to accompany her. You were pretty sure you knew why she'd made the gesture, aside from being your best friend, of course. Even though you weren't open to talking about the mystery-guy that had done you so wrong, Rose had been instrumental in the first steps of your healing process. She was doing everything she could to keep you busy and surrounded by friends. Even though sometimes you wanted nothing more than to be alone, those were the times when the thoughts of Kylo came in droves and without mercy. It was better to be with her. Even without understanding the full extent of the story, Rose knew that much, and she had come to your rescue.

"It's going to be great. Awards, free dinner, we get to dress up, open bar," Rose explained, ticking off each fanciful ingredient to the Engineering Department's gala finger by finger. From the sound of it, the school was really going all out, which made sense, seeing as the Engineering Department was one of the most renowned branches of the university, and according to Rose, brought in heaps and heaps of money.

You had to admit, a night of dressing up, eating shrimp cocktails, drinking wine paid for by the school, and watching your best friend accept a highly deserved grant sounded like just the thing that might almost bring a smile to your face.

And it would be a Kylo-Ren-free zone.

Suddenly, you were standing. You didn't realize the impulse was there until you were on your feet. And now, everyone was looking at you. Shit.

You forced a tight grin. "I haven't done any work in a half hour. I need to recalibrate." Feigning aloofness, you gave your thighs a resolute slap. "I'm gonna take a lap." You gestured to the front door as you stepped out. A walk around the block would clear your head, you hoped, but it was hardly your studies that were clouding your mind.

You took a breath as you stepped out into the threshold and onto the porch. Cold, night air drenched your body. You inhaled deeply, letting the freshness of the wind flooding your lungs ground you. The door clicked behind you, and you set off down the steps and began to walk down the street, leaving Finn and Poe's house a short distance in your wake.

You shouldn't be thinking about him. You should be _happy_ that the gala would be a so-called Ren-free zone. And at the very least, you were _grateful_ he wouldn't be there. But you couldn't use the word happy.

But somehow, you had to get yourself there.

No... _no._ You were still thinking about him. Thinking about how the hell you were going to stop thinking about him was still thinking about him. You swore under your breath. You needed to think about something else. _Anything_ else.

"[Y/N]."

You turned.

You stood in front of a charming yet imposing coastal-style house. It was the best looking home on the otherwise dingy street, standing out like a shining star among all the other shitty, small houses rented out by college students.

Hux couldn't have looked more out of place, sitting out the porch of a home on a congested street lined with smaller, worse looking homes, but it made perfect since that he'd landed the best one—monumental and important-looking amongst all the rest. The mental image of him having to live surrounded by rowdy college students, lying awake in bed at 3:00 a.m. furious with his inability to sleep because his young neighbors would be blasting EDM music and throwing a rager was enough to bring a smile to your lips.

A small chucked escaped your throat.

Unbelievable. It was _unbelievable_ who was sitting before you right then, perched on his lawn furniture like it was a throne, a book in his hand and a charcoal-colored fleece blanket draped around his shoulders. But there he was.

Your life had become one unfathomable shit-show since Kylo Ren had entered it, and now that he was gone, it still had all the elements of a terrible rom-com. And you resented him even more for leaving such chaos even after he'd left you behind. 

That was one side of the coin. The other side of it was that you _knew_ Hux lived on this street. You didn't know where, but you knew that one of these shabby, harbor-style houses would be his. Maybe a part of you considered the possibility that he'd be out there. That you'd find him.

And instead, Hux found you.

He closed his book but left his finger in between the pages to save his place. He rested it gingerly on his knee. He stared down at you from the height of his porch, hazel eyes narrowed as he scrutinized you. What was it with overly-brooding older (but still rather young) men employed by the university who seemed to take a liking to examining you like you were a particularly nasty strain of a virus under a microscope?

The look in his eyes pierced your stomach and left a sour, roiling sensation deep in your gut. The feeling resonated on your face. You could feel yourself grimacing, but didn't bother to wipe your expression clean.

Silent resentment hung heavy in the otherwise fresh air that filled the space between you and beyond. Suddenly, you found yourself wondering where this bizarre, unspoken rivalry between you and the Dean of Students had come from. And then, of course, within a millisecond, you remembered that is was thanks to Professor Ren. Who else could turn your life upside-down and destroy all of your interpersonal relationships? First Hux, and then who? Would Amilyn Holdo suddenly come knocking on your door to tell you that you were worthless and would never have a job as a writer because Kylo Ren evidently hated you, so she decided to hate you too?

You stared up at the man who was nine or ten years your senior, give or take, and watched him size you up. Surely Hux had something better to do.

He finally broke the tense silence. Pieces of fiery red hair blew softly in the chilly wind. "Out taking a contemplative stroll, are we?"

You ran your tongue over the front of your teeth, pursing your lips, and cursing your life. "I've just been enjoying a quiet night in with my friends. Study session. I'm sure you're grateful it's been an uneventful, peaceful night. You must be so exhausted from narcing on underclassmen and calling the cops on your neighbors for having fun."

Hux clasped the novel he was holding. "I'll have you know that it's my duty to uphold the rules and regulations among my students."

You nodded, feigning understanding. "Pretty sure you were off duty at the time, though."

Hux's eyes narrowed further. A whisper of a smirk teased the corner of his pale lips. "I would hardly expect you to understand that _some of us_ try to avoid misconduct and malpractice given our positions of authority, wherever possible." The smirk was no longer a whisper. It was plain and jeering on his serious, almost gaunt, albeit handsome face. "I would hate to imagine what my superiors, or even the authorities would think if I was acting in an egregious manner. Especially where students are involved." Hux cocked his head, grinning softly.

Okay. Your move.

You scoffed. "You're a regular hero."

Hux leaned back in his chair.

"You know," you said, your jaw tense with anger. Amidst the persistent, roiling sensation in your belly, you tried to force a smile back, wracking your brain. All you wanted to do was hurt him. To make it sting. To give him a taste, a _fraction_ of the misery that he had imposed on you by forcing Ren out of his position. So what could you use? What would really _injure_ him? What was his weakness?

Kylo Ren.

He wanted everything Kylo had. His brains. His writing ability. And most of all? His job. Hux wanted to be the head of the Lit department. _That_ was why he had tried to make Ren's life so miserable and unlivable in the first place. "I should really get back to my homework. With respect, I suppose you're not really the contact for literature questions. But, I'll definitely let you know if I have any...you know. General admissions concerns, or feedback, or anything of the sort."

Hux's smirk fell, his hand going limp at the side of his book. That was enough for you.

With a lift of your chin, you turned on your heel, and headed back down the way you'd come.

You waited for the sensation of triumph to fill you, to replace all the anger and resentment you were feeling towards anyone who breathed whose name wasn't Finn, Poe, or Rose.

It didn't come.

For a moment, you wondered why. Why were you possibly still feeling so down? Why were you still miserable after sticking it to the man who had wronged you?

Understanding flooded you slowly, and sank you in cold, icy sadness.

Because you'd wanted to hurt him. And before any of this, before Kylo Ren, you'd never wanted to hurt anyone. What kind of person were you becoming? What kind of darkness had Kylo Ren thrust you into to make you feel like you had to claw your way out of it by dragging other people down?

With every inhale of cold air, you felt guilt racking up inside of you like heavy stacks of breath. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. For the first time in the last few, intentionally mind-numbingly busy days, your eyes filled with tears. Damn. You'd been doing so well.

You couldn't let your sorrow turn you into that. Turn you into someone whose only solace came in tearing down others. Not even Hux.

Kylo Ren was gone. And there was nothing you could do about it.

You had to turn over a new leaf. And you had to do it now. He was gone, and he wasn't going to pick up the dark pieces he'd left in his wake.

There was only one person who held that responsibility— _you_.


	25. Paralyzed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You shook your head slowly, propping your arms on your knees, pressing the back of your head against the wall behind you, focusing on your breath, ready for the nausea to spike again.
> 
> And then, slowly, your eyes found her. Rose stood in front of the door, which had finally closed behind her, staring down at you, wearing an expression of stubborn disbelief. You felt your own expression as if it was etched permanently onto your face, like stone. You frowned deeply, lower lip nearly quivering. “Why didn’t you tell me he was here,” you whispered.
> 
> “Why who was here?” She asked, baffled.
> 
> “Ren.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for 900 kudos! wowowowow!
> 
> So I had a lot of fun with this chapter. I love galas and parties. Please keep in mind that this is a slow burn. I'm really sorry if that's not your jam, but I can say that there's so much more to come.
> 
> Lots of love and as always, thanks for reading!

"And...wait for it..." Rose squinted her eyes as she stuck a few more pins into your updo, which, by the way, had taken her a half hour to put together. "You...look... _beautiful."_

She only lifted her focus at the sound of the last word, when she decided her work was finally done. It was so like her to extend her concentration to the very last second. Grasping your shoulders, she wheeled you around so you could finally face your own reflection in the mirror.

Only a couple weeks ago, you'd stood in the same place with her. Then, she was helping you get ready for a party so you could drink away the emotional and spiritual repercussions of your breakup with Kylo Ren. Now, the circumstances were much happier. You were accompanying her to a gala, where she would be receiving a much deserved grant for research which would launch her career, you were sure. And though the sadness wasn't necessarily any less intense than it was the last time you were standing there getting primped and primed with Rose, since then, you had learned to tuck it away much more effectively.

"Well? How'd I do?" She was beaming from ear to ear.

You couldn't help but smile, too. Thanks to all the schoolwork and TA duties you had to keep yourself busy, you hadn't had an idle moment in what felt like a lifetime. Dark thoughts revolving around a certain former English Professor were safely tucked away. Sometimes, they threatened to emerge. So long as at their arrival, you were able to launch yourself into something to do, they were proven to be perfectly outrun-able.

"You did amazing." You ran your hands over the dark blue skirt of your dress. You didn't have time to go to the mall with Rose to pick it out; you had had a particularly daunting stack of essays to grade. But she'd been kind enough to grab it for you, which was extremely characteristic of her. As for the price...fuck it. You'd been pushing yourself to the limit lately, and deserved something nice. And if you put yourself into one or two hundred dollars of credit card debt, then...well, what was one more obstacle?

She'd done up your hair in a soft and sultry updo. Loose strands of hair cascaded to graze your shoulder blades, but your décolletage was otherwise bare to draw attention your dress's low cut and the faux- diamond necklace you'd borrowed from Jannah.

"God, you look so good in blue," she muttered, straightening out your skirt.

The gown was stunning, and you were disappointed at the strong possibility that you'd never have the occasion to wear it again. You tried not to think about your bank account, and ran your hands over the fabric once more before moving your fingers to run lightly over the diamond choker. It was a beautiful dress. And it was true—you loved wearing blue. A part of you thought you should change up your routine and pick any other color. But even a different shade and a different style helped you feel transformative. You'd forgone fluffy tulle and chiffon and opted for a deep, dark, royal-blue jacquard, the color of moon-kissed sky, of midnight. The sleeves were an inch or two long and rested off the shoulder. The bodice was fitted and the skirt was flared, leaving you feeling truly...regal, somehow. Mature. To top it all off, Rose had accentuated your Hollywood-style cascading bun with pins that bore crystals on their heads, so that they gleamed and glistened amidst your cascading locks of hair.

You turned to Rose. You had never seen her look so stunningly gorgeous before, though you had always thought she had a natural, effortless beauty to her. Tonight, she looked radiant in a deep, burgundy dress that hugged her curves, her inky black hair sleek in a low bun. Gold dangles hung from her earlobes, and dark, maroon-painted lips made her smile that much more luminous.

Perhaps she'd caught you admiring the both of you in the mirror. Turning you around once more, gently this time, she grasped her hands around your own. "I'm really happy you're coming tonight," she told you fondly.

"I am too." Grinning, you let her pull you into a very Rose-esque bone-crushing hug.

You and Rose walked briskly to your campus's banquet hall, coats hugged tightly around your shoulders and freshly painted toes aching painfully against the bitterly cold wind. Thankfully, it wasn't a far walk, and you found yourself feeling surprisingly light, deep in conversation with your friend. You weren't sure, given the current circumstances, if you'd be able to lead a conversation on your own. But she was so excited about her grant and upcoming study, that you couldn't get more than a few words in. In truth, you wouldn't have had it any other way. You hadn't spent much time with her lately, and she was more than deserving of all the attention you'd failed to give her over the last couple of months.

And no matter how things were going for you, it was hard not to feel the contagious effects of Rose's enthusiasm.

Clutching each other by the arms, you stumbled into the vestibule of the banquet hall, both of you groaning in relief as much-welcomed warmth doused your bodies. Shedding your coats, you took them over to the counter and had them checked in. Adjusting the bodice of your dress, you gave Rose one final smile before the two of you braved the grand foyer, following the stream of party-goers up the imposing staircase and down the corridor to enter the main hall.

Well, if Rose was correct that the engineering department raked in the most money, then that would explain the decorations.

A stage lined the back wall, doused in rich, royal curtains illuminated handsomely with cool light. Two monitors hung above either side of the stage, which also sported a glass podium. Dozens of tables covered the floor, soft pink tablecloths complementing the light pink and orange roses that sat within pristinely polished glass centerpieces. Shining silverwear was already prepared on the tables, along with empty wine glasses and porcelain dishes, but several stations of high-end buffet style tables were positions evenly around the tables, the food still covered by silver serving cloche domes, but the intoxicating smell of hot plates of salmon and steak was not lost on you for a moment. You weren't sure what looked better, the immaculate decorations, or the pristinely dressed engineering students and professors who had gone all out for a well deserved celebration of their accomplishments.

Rose beamed, basking in the dim, blue light. After a moment of taking in the splendor, her hand was around your wrist. "There are so many people I want to introduce you to! You've never even met some of my classmates." You pondered the thought as she yanked you through the glittering crowd. You had considered Rose your best friends for years, and of course, had met a handful of her favorite classmates. But it was strange how deep the crevice separating your respective majors really was.

And that was proven true as a group of young people your age saw Rose and pulled her into eager hugs and congratulations. You didn't recognize any of them. Rose was quick to introduce you, however, and you quickly found that you liked her friends. You barely understood a word of what any of them were saying, but they really seemed to love and admire Rose, so that was more than sufficient in your book.

As Rose continued enthusing about her upcoming project, and the funds that would now allow her to get it on its feet, you felt something at your ankle. A flash of red fabric caught the corner of your eye. As you lifted your chin to discover the source of the flicker of color, you expected your eyes to fall upon the woman in the beautiful red dress who had brushed against you as she walked past. Such a rich, beautiful color. You would have complimented her if you'd gotten the chance.

But your eyes landed somewhere else.

The second you saw the familiar, cascading waves of inky, windswept locks, your heart plummeted into your stomach.

On the other side of the room, closer to the far right wall—it was _him_. Your eyes fell on him in an instant, as if they were destined to find him in the fullest of crowds.

Kylo was engaged in conversation, a delicate flute of champagne resting within his strong fingers. He smiled as he engaged with his fellow academics. For a moment, you stood, absolutely silent and dumbfounded, watching him—Kylo—a _former_ professor at the university, someone who had no apparent place at this event, at least to you. In that moment, you were speechless, watching him, watching his obliviousness to your presence, wondering if he'd be excited or irritated to see you. Wondering if he felt the same way you did, wondering if he felt cursed to be forever haunted by your presence, cursed to always, somehow, inexplicably, at every turn, find _you,_ and to wonder why he couldn't be rid of you, no matter how hard either of you might try.

Wondering if he felt the same way about you that you did about _him._

You sat in the safety of the comfort of knowing that he hadn't yet seen you. You watched him watch other people, silent, almost peaceful, even though there was a small voice at the back of your head, a voice that you were keen to ignore whenever it came to Kylo Ren, a voice telling you, _wait, look away, or he'll see you, and then, the safety and comfort will be gone._

But you never listened to that voice. You wondered if you ever would.

And as if called by the loud, internal thoughts of your mind, as if he could hear them, like you suspected, at times, he had before, Kylo turned away from his conversation partners.

And his eyes found you instead.

And your heart shot back up into your throat.

His lips parted as you watched the realization dawn in his eyes. He _saw_ you. Suddenly, he looked as oblivious to the conversation he'd been having just seconds before as you felt towards the conversation _you'd_ been having, too. The men around him went on chatting, but in the peripherals of your vision, they seemed to move in slow motion. As if you and Kylo were the only two in that realm of space, and everyone around you was suspended in water, a silent sea that surrounded you and him, moving slowly and inaudibly.

You remembered the taste of his lips, his skin, his sweat on your tongue. Time snapped back into motion like a rubber band. And you felt the sudden urge to be sick.

Weeks of suppressed rage and agony lurched into your throat. Before his dark eyes, the walls of distraction and denial that you'd built to keep yourself functional came crumbling down, heavy, jagged chunks of stone threatening to crush anyone in their wake.

Without saying anything to the Rose or the kind people around her, you stumbled backwards, straight through the center of your group. Your heel rolled over the edge of your shoe, and you caught yourself before you hit the ground. You thought you heard Rose muttering concerned words at you, but suddenly, it was as if you couldn't understand English, and all that mattered was getting away, getting the hell out of that room.

You kept moving. For a few moments, as you rushed backwards, you kept Kylo's gaze locked in your own. And then, eventually, you turned, and rushed out of the center of the room and to the outskirts, where you could be free of everyone, all of the elaborately, fussily dressed bodies that suddenly seemed to be closing in on you, the sparkles off of their jewelry temporarily blinding you, the heat from the candles scorching your skin—or had it been the way that he'd looked at you that was making you smolder?

You stumbled into the bathroom with what felt like only moments to spare. You brought up your arm, ready to shove any innocent bystanders out of your way, but by some miracle, the room was empty. You wrenched yourself into the first stall and dropped yourself onto your knees, positive that you were going to be sick. You squeezed your eyes shut, but the moment never came. You sat there, on your knees, for several seconds, breathing deeply. Finally, the nausea began to dissipate.

You heard the bathroom door shove open behind you, so forcefully that it hit the wall. You heard your name and realized instantly that it was Rose. You wrenched your face into an expression of weary frustration, sitting back against the wall, collapsing onto your ass.

"What the hell happened?" she asked.

You shook your head slowly, propping your arms on your knees, pressing the back of your head against the wall behind you, focusing on your breath, ready for the nausea to spike again.

And then, slowly, your eyes found her. Rose stood in front of the door, which had finally closed behind her, staring down at you, wearing an expression of stubborn disbelief. You felt your own expression as if it was etched permanently onto your face, like stone. You frowned deeply, lower lip nearly quivering. "Why didn't you tell me he was here," you whispered.

"Why _who_ was here?" she asked, baffled.

" _Ren."_

She stared at you blankly, mouth partly opened, and didn't respond, as if wondering what in the hell Ren had to do with _anything._

"Did you know he'd be here?" you pressed, more urgently this time. Your voice shocked even you. It was low and gravely. You sounded _exhausted._

"Y-Yeah? I guess? I mean, it was never really a question," she breathed, still looking dumbfounded and bewildered.

"Why is he here?" you repeated, more slowly this time.

"Um, I don't know. He was a department head, a faculty advisor, and probably the go-to professor for thesis help. Should I go on?" Rose quirked a brow.

Frowning, you turned away, feeling tears sting your eyes. You could hardly stand to look at her. Your heart pounded roughly, battering in your chest, so hard you feared it would break your ribs.

"What the hell does he have to do with anything? He's just a professor. A _former_ professor. It's not like we even really _knew_ him!" Rose argued, voice thick with misunderstanding.

Slowly, you turned to look at her once more. The hardness in your face was gone, replaced with a stripped back version of all the grief you'd been feeling for the past weeks, mascara streaming down your cheeks, lipstick smudged. You looked as broken and defeated as you felt on the inside, as you'd been trying to convince yourself that you _didn't_ feel. It broke your heart to do so, but you watched as Rose put together the pieces; you could practically hear the cogs turning in her mind as she put two and two together. Her eyes went wide, jaw dropping open in a silent gasp, brows furrowed, as if convinced she had misinterpreted.

But when you didn't correct her, the weight of the truth settled in harder. And finally, _finally,_ after months of lies and deceit and secrets and confusion, Rose understood.

"Ren?" she breathed. "He...he's the one who..."

Your head dropped, chin drooping near your sternum, as you released a small, pathetic sob. You heard a small clicking noise, and registered that she must have locked the door. You felt grateful and undeserving.

"He did this to you?" she whispered. Your head rose at the horror in her voice, and you panicked at the sight of her disgusted expression.

"Rose, you don't understand," you responded quickly, shaking your head and outstretching an arm as if the gesture would keep her from running to his old superiors, or whatever the hell she was thinking of doing. "It wasn't...it wasn't him, it was _us._ I...we were _together."_

You expected, hoped, perhaps, that her appalled look in her eyes would dissipate, but it didn't...not for a few moments, at the very least. You stared her down, hoping that she was learning everything she needed to know from the look in your eyes: _it wasn't what you think. I loved him. And I thought he loved me._

It might have worked. It might have not. Regardless, Rose's stone-cold expression softened after a few moments.

"You were really...together?" she murmured.

You nodded. "And he...it was...it was _good,_ for a while. I'm not even really sure what changed. But he was tired of Hux constantly breathing down his neck, and he decided to go, but...I don't know. I don't know, Rose. I really, really thought I knew him."

"And that's why you've been so upset, so...unlike yourself." She shifted, and her expression wrenched into one of confusion. "Did tinder guy ever exist?"

You sobbed out a small laugh, and wiped your eyes. "Not exactly," you confessed.

"Jesus."

"I didn't mean to lie," you said quickly. "I didn't want to lie to you, not ever." Your voice quivered with emotion, and with fear that she'd be angry with you. You couldn't hold it against her if she was. "I just—I _couldn't."_

Pleading with your eyes, you held your breath as you waited for her to respond. Waited for the confirmation whether or not you two would remain friends, whether or not the lies that you'd spun into your relationship would upend it once and for all.

But Rose shook her head, her eyes kind and understanding as they always were.

"I get it," she told you. "I get you. But I want you to know that you can tell me _anything._ Always."

You sniffled, wiping your eyes once more. Shakily, you brought yourself to your feet at last. Getting yourself back onto your legs was like climbing a small mountain.

"Fuck. Tonight was supposed to be about you. I'm so sorry, Rose. I didn't know...I had no idea he'd be here."

Jittery on top of your heels, you stuttered back over to Rose, who folded you effortlessly into your arms.

"It's okay." Her breath whisped against your ear. Somehow, it was calming. "Let's just go back out there. Keep your head down. You won't have to look at him. I can walk you back to the front-"

"No," you argued quickly. "I'm staying." You pulled away to look at her. You stared into her eyes so intently, as if doing so would help emphasize your meaning. "I'm staying to see you accept your grant." Your voice was sharp and unrelenting, and left no room for her to argue.

"Okay," she agreed after a brief silence, and nodded. "Then, consider me your bodyguard for the rest of the night."

You and Rose made fervent, hectic agreements in hushed tones as you walked back to your table. You kept your eyes on the ground and she guided you by your elbow, instructing you to leave as soon as the ceremony was over, and simultaneously, you begged her not to report Ren. Begrudgingly, she agreed, and her word was good enough for you.

The ceremony was as smooth as it could be. Rose had even brought you back a plate of salmon and steamed vegetables before it began, (though you could hardly fathom the idea of eating at the present moment) and two flutes of champagne for each of you. If you knew anything, it was that alcohol would be essential in making it through the night. But nothing— _nothing—_ was going to keep you from supporting Rose. One brisk, courageous look around the room told you that he wasn't in your immediate line of sight. You kept your eyes glued to the stage, and once or twice, found yourself wondering if he was close to you, and you'd just missed him. You wondered if he was watching you, or if he even cared that you were here.

For the duration of the ceremony, you sat rigid in your seat, your eyes glued to the stage, terrified that if you shifted them even the tiniest bit to the side, that you'd find him staring at you all over again. You barely moved a muscle, and the urge to check your surroundings was relatively strong. But if anything, it was the fear of landing in Kylo Ren's gaze that kept you still in your seat and your neck aching with the urge to readjust its position.

You picked at your food, taking a few small nibbles throughout the night to appease Rose. Each taste made your already nervous stomach twist in disagreement.

The only time it wasn't difficult to keep your attention on the speaker or presenter was when Rose finally climbed onto the stage to accept the recognition for her grant. Beaming, you clapped and the cheered as she shook hands with the president of the university and the head of her department. She looked positively radiant, all of her hard work finally coming to fruition, her ambition finally becoming reality. Soon, she swept back towards the table, certificate in hand, and you pulled her into a tight hug. You were filled with joy and pride. But soon, the moment passed, and the ceremony dragged on, and you watched stranger after stranger walk onto the stage and disappear back into the crowd, and you were once more left with the crippling fear and realization that Kylo Ren was somewhere in that very crowd, amidst the same group of people that surrounded you as well.

When it ended, there was a half-full plate in front of you and one and a half empty champagne glass beyond your placemat. Rose assured you that she would leave with you, and that she just wanted to say a quick goodbye to her friends, who were seated elsewhere.

"No, Rose," you argued, "please don't leave because of me."

"I want to be with my _best friend_ tonight," she assured you. "Besides, if we go back together, then we can celebrate with Finn and Poe!"

Hesitantly, you agreed, and she urged you to accompany her to her friends' table. But you declined, preferring to stay low in your seat and out of the crowd, as it would hopefully shield you from the possibility of running into Ren. Rose agreed, and with a promise that she'd be back in a flash, disappeared into the milling-about crowd.

The second she was gone, your heart started to pound and batter in your chest. Restless and anxious, you snatched your champagne flute and downed the rest of its contents. It burned in your throat and warmed your stomach. Then, you wondered if it would have been a better idea to go with her. If he was milling about, too, and would run into you—alone and stationary.

Despite yourself, you found yourself half-rising out of your seat, craning your neck to scan the crowd; if anything, you only meant to make sure he wasn't advancing on you. That was the one thing you didn't want.

But as if on cue, he was there, twenty feet away at the most, pushing through the crowd and muttering his apologies as he fought through the throng of bodies. His eyes flickered up, and met yours. Dark, amber spheres. For a moment, you were back in his bed. Cool, silky sheets caressed your skin. His lips were at your ear. He was stroking your hair after a particularly rough night of sex. You burned and ached all over, but it was _delicious._

And then, you realized without a doubt, that he was seeking you out.

That he was headed right towards you.

You were on your feet before you could process the decision in your brain. Snatching up your clutch, you whipped around and headed for the door as soon as you could, weaving through the crowd like a mouse chased by a cat, swift and desperate, leaving him behind once more.

You gasped for air as soon as soon as you burst through the doors of the main hall. You found yourself once more in the upper level of the lobby. Immaculate golden designs lined the otherwise black carpet. You stared as it as you bustled down the hall back to the staircase. Rose would have to find you later. She'd understand. You'd explain it to her when you met up again. What mattered was getting out of there.

You could hardly _breathe._

Hot, furious tears streamed down your face, burning your cheeks and stinging and the corners of your eyes. Images of Kylo in his tuxedo, looking better than ever, crossing the room to approach you _burned_ in your mind. You tried to shove them away, but they wouldn't budge, gluing themselves to the insides of your eyelids, haunting you even as you squeezed your eyes shut, feeling more tears spill over your cheeks. You focused on making it down the hall on your quivering legs, your stilt-like heels making that all-too difficult, but at least it let you focus on something- _anything-_ other than Kylo.

How _dare_ he. How dare he try to approach you after _drilling_ into your mind that he no longer wished to have you in his life. Was it too much to ask for him to just leave you alone?

You rounded the grand foyer that descended into the lobby. The front doors of the venue were finally within your vision, within your reach. And just as you reached for the banister of the staircase, you heard your name fall off the lips of an all-too familiar voice, sounding from behind you.

You stopped dead in your tracks, halting, and straightened your back like a possessed woman, his voice, _Kylo's_ voice, wrapping around your mind like tendrils and squeezing it to his submission. In the same moment, your heart swelled with _fury,_ so inflamed you felt that it would burst. Your teeth clenched so hard that you were sure they would shatter. You turned over your shoulder to catch him in a light jog, slowing as he realized that you'd waited for him.

 _Why_ had you waited for him?

Familiar, dark, silky locks of his hair flopped gently on the sides of his cheeks as he bounded towards you. Just barely out of breath, Kylo was in front of you before you could bring yourself to run for the hills. You cursed yourself for not running faster when you could. For letting him stop you in the first place.

You shook your head, your face a stony grimace. Your eyes told him not to close the few steps that lied between you. Why did you always let him stop you?

The silence between you was heavy. There was so much that needed to be said, but for a few simmering moments, neither of you was brave enough to say them. He stared at you. Silent and longing, not his usual pensive self. You couldn't read him if you tried. He was blank, his eyes nearly reflecting your blue-clad frame. As if that was all he was taking in.

"How--how are you?"

You retracted your neck and felt your face bunch in confusion. _How are you?_ You stared back at Kylo as if he'd just spoken to you in a foreign language and there was no hope in translating his meaning. After he'd spoken, the two of you were silent for a long moment. When the silence became too awful to bear, you both spoke at the same time.

"It's good to see-"

"Why are you following me?"

Again, as if at odds, the two of you stood, rooted to your respective positions at the top of the grand staircase, the few feet that separated you feeling like miles.

Every second you had to endure looking at him sent another shatter through your heart. You felt your chin trembling, and clenched your teeth in an attempt to steady it.

"I didn't mean to..." he started. You furrowed your brow as you watched him wrestle with his thoughts. He grimaced too, as if he was considering them carefully. He spoke with a tenderness that was difficult for you to recognize. "I only wanted to see you," he concluded simply. The manner in which he said it didn't have you convinced. But the fact that he'd rushed after you all this way was a different matter entirely.

"Why would you possibly want to see me?" you whispered. "You made it perfectly clear to me that you no longer had the preference of keeping me in your life."

"No. No," he argued, taking a step forward, causing you to lurch backward in repulsion. "You're twisting what happened. I said I _did_ want you in my life. Only that-"

"Only that I didn't matter," you finished the sentence for him bitterly.

His mouth twitched, and he considered what to say next yet again. After a moment of silent struggling, in a small voice, he responded, "I didn't put it exactly like that."

"But you may as well have."

Kylo now looked at you solemnly. As if he wanted to disagree, but couldn't.

"I've told you how I feel. The least you can do is leave me alone," you spat, before whipping around and starting down the staircase, with Kylo at your heels.

"I don't think you're giving enough credit to our...situation," he blurted, his voice hasty and urgent as you tried to put distance between you and him. Clammy, trembling hands balled the sides of your skirt as you descended down to the first landing of the stairs, royal blue colored silk spilling through your fingertips. "I'm only trying to be responsible."

"Responsible?" you nearly shrieked, whipping your head over your shoulder to look up at him. Eight or nine stairs lay in between you—enough closeness for you to speak your mind to his face, but enough distance to keep you from falling under his spell as you had too many times before. "Kylo, you might be the least responsible, most impulsive man I've ever met!" Suddenly, fury was rising like a tide inside of your body, igniting your veins and filling you with thoughts and grievances that you'd never even vocalized before. All the impulsive things you'd done together...either of you could have put a stop to them. But why would he have allowed them in the first place? "Have you ever, even _once,_ asked me if I'm on birth control, for example?"

Kylo's eyes went wide. As if he expected you to give him some news that neither of you were ready for.

Incredulous. You shook your head, expression blank. "I _am_ on the pill," you told him. "I am. But you wouldn't know that. You never asked me. I was responsible for the both of us. Someone had to be."

You turned again, descending the last stretch of staircase. You didn't move so quickly this time. The small bit of resentment you'd gotten off your chest was allowing you a small amount of solace, at least, and the fire inside you reared slightly lower.

"You know that you can't be with me. You know that," he said from behind you. Once you were standing on the floor of the lobby, you turned, and saw him where you left him: standing on the landing of the staircase, staring down at you.

You shook your head. "According to you, I can be with you as a toy. Just not as anything else," you corrected him. "Whether I'm nothing but a warm mouth to you, or whether you loved me, it doesn't make a difference. Either way, we'd be breaking the rules. The barriers and definitions we set within whatever it was we were doing don't matter if they're prohibited either way. You said 'fuck it' to the rules. _I_ said 'fuck it' to the rules. So don't pretend that me staying with you as a girlfriend is so different from staying with you as a toy, because it's irresponsible either way."

He outstretched a hand, as if referring to an extremely important bout of evidence. "See? It doesn't matter. What we call ourselves _doesn't_ matter. So why can't you just stay?"

You scoffed, shaking your head and feeling exhausted. "They're the same in that you're a hypocrite for saying I can be one and not the other. But in terms of how they make me feel...they couldn't be more different."

With tears rising to your eyes, you turned, not wanting him to see you cry. You made a beeline to the front door, ignoring the coat-check on your left.

"You just don't understand," Kylo said, making you stop once and for all in your tracks, inches away from the front door. You could just leave. There was nothing holding you here. You could go, step out into the cold night and be free of him, of all the feelings that he was forcing you to endure. "You don't...There are things that you don't know. About me, about my life."

Despite yourself, you turned back to him again. He stood in the same place, but looked at you with pleading eyes. If only the situation was different, if only he could just open up to you, to _tell_ you those things, you could reach out to him, reach out until you were in his arms once more.

"Then instead of treating me like a stupid little girl who doesn't have a capacity for understanding, you could _explain_ it to me. _Help_ me understand."

You stared at him for a long time. For several moments, you clung to the silence between you, believing that maybe, just maybe, the silence held something that could help you, that maybe you could squeeze an answer from you.

But he stayed silent. And therein lied your answer.

You sighed, and turned away, your fingers finding the handle of the door.

His voice uttered your name. In one last desperate plea for hope, you looked at him. But he had nothing to say.

You left him on the very same landing of the stairs, wrestling with his thoughts, with his conflicting emotions, tangles of reflections that he couldn't dare unravel—not yet.


	26. White Flags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You stood where you’d stood only a few nights before, under the same cold moon, the same enclosing darkness. But now, the tension between you was crumpled, the walls and battalions lying in rubble at your feet. You gazed at Hux with a soft understanding, holding your white flag, laying down your arms, screaming with your eyes that you just didn’t want to fight anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A NOTE ABOUT THIS CHAPTER. I know this idea had some mixed reactions. I know that some of you really didn’t want a Hux/reader situation. But at the end of the day, I wrote what I felt. I just wrote what came out, what felt natural. It's unfortunately impossible for me to abide by the wishes of everyone and align with what every reader feels is in-character. And I am in NO WAY trying to call out anyone for voicing their thoughts on the matter- I was the one who brought it up! I wanted to hear your thoughts, and still do! I only write this note as a way to explain my decision and process. And I assure you that this is not a Hux/Reader fic. Although I am more than down to write one, this fic is about the female character and Kylo Ren, and tells their story. But I want to tell everything in between, too. Including the angst and the difficulty. I felt that this was in-character for my creation. I wanted to do what was realistic, relatively speaking (it is essentially a dark rom-com after all,) and this is what was in my heart. I'm sorry if you don't love it; it saddens me to know I can't please everyone. But of course I will always do my best, and I hope you stay along for the ride! I love each and every one of you so much.
> 
> This chapter is dedicated to all you crazy cats and kittens making tiktoks about this fic, especially __driverswife__ who commented on a previous chapter. There was another one that got like 10k hits but I don’t remember the username, so I’m very sorry. Absolutely BONKERS!!!

The clicking of your heels rapping on the pavement, the soft, sharp, repetitive nose, was the sound that pulled you out of your catatonic state. How long you'd been walking, you weren't sure. The only thing you _were_ sure of was that you'd finally confronted Kylo Ren. Had finally given him a piece of your mind. And it was true that a certain weight seemed to have lifted off of your shoulders, but did that only serve to let you run away from him faster? He was in the distance, and that distance was growing greater with every rapid step you took.

But then, your thoughts, which had been fully suffocated by Kylo Ren and the painful yet liberating exchange you'd just had, became clouded with more pressing issues.

You were just walking. Alone, without your coat, without Rose, and you hadn't even let her know that you'd gone. Would she be worried about you? Shouldn't you stop, turn around, and go back for your coat so you wouldn't freeze to death?

And where were you going? You weren't particularly keen on going back to your dorm, in all honesty. If Kylo Ren was on campus, then you felt the stirring need to get as far away from the university as possible.

You considered all the thoughts telling you that you should stop, get your bearings, turn around, get your coat, go back for Rose, but you felt like they were chasing you, so they only served to make you walk faster. The rapping of your stilettos against the sidewalk grew louder and more urgent. Snowflakes landed softly on your skin and melted; each one seemed almost to bloom into water slower than the last as your body heat dropped.

And then a second sound of clicking heels from behind you, this pair faster and much more urgent than your own. You heard your name, and heavy panting from a small ways back, and you knew it was Rose before you turned around.

Heaving, she jogged to a stop once you finally ceased your escape mission. As she approached you, doubled over from the effort of running to catch up to you, you realized that you, too, were breathless, and your calves stung from the strain.

Abashed, Rose stared at you as she caught her breath, hands clasping her knees for support as her breathing became more even. " _I had- to sprint- after you- all the way- from the banquet hall_!" she wheezed. "Do you have any idea how fast you walk?" She winced as she straightened her back at last, thrusting your coat into your hands. "Here."

You looked at the ground as you accepted the garment, ashamed. "Sorry," you murmured.

"The least you could have done was tell me you were leaving! I told you to stay put so Ren wouldn't find you. What were you thinking?"

"Why do you think I left so suddenly?" You raised your head, and you found her eyes wide and stunned, staring back at you.

"He found you?"

"He found me," you sighed, dropping your gaze once again, tugging on your coat over your trembling shoulders and arms. You clasped it shut, hugging yourself around the middle for warmth and turning back down the street, still eager to get as far as the banquet hall as you could, but grateful that Rose was by your side, and truthfully, feeling somewhat calmer now that she was here. "You didn't see him in the lobby when you came after me?"

"No, I didn't. I wonder where he went. Maybe I just missed him?"

You shook your head. "It's possible, but I bet he disappeared into the mist or something. The man's slippery."

Rose scoffed. "I'm sorry you had to deal with that tonight."

"Are you kidding? Tonight was supposed to be about you. I'm sorry that I ruined it all with this drama, and ran off without telling you."

"Hey," she said, waving her certificate, which was clasped tightly in her grip. "I got what I came for. That's what's important. You didn't ruin anything."

"I was only thinking about getting away from him before I did something I'd regret."

"Something you'd regret?" she pressed. "What do you mean? Were you going to punch him?

"No. I mean- maybe. Yeah, I maybe would have," you concluded, pondering your thoughts carefully as you tried to sort them into words. "But...it's like, whenever I let him get too close, I fall into his trap all over again."

"His trap," she repeated. You could feel the palpable brow-furrow in her voice as she tried to understand. Even though she was on board now, Rose didn't know the half of what you and Kylo had been through over the past couple of months. She didn't even know a fraction of it. "I don't get it."

"It's like, if I let him get to close, I let him have what he wants, against my better judgement. The more I'm alone in a room with him, the more I want to jump his bones. But that's all that he wants from me. And I want so much more than that," you admitted. "I want to _be_ with him, not just be _with_ him. And I thought that's what he wanted too, but I was wrong. But I can't keep letting him _seduce_ me," you said, grimacing at the cheesiness of your word choice, but unable to find a better alternative, "if I can't ever have him completely."

"And you're sure he doesn't want anything more than to, uh, seduce you? Sleep with you, I mean? What did you talk about tonight?"

You paused. What _had_ you talked about tonight? You had only been focusing on how warm your blood felt after finally having the satisfaction of yelling at him, that you hadn't had the chance to begin overanalyzing your actual conversation.

You furrowed your brow when you remembered what he'd said to you. And suddenly, you were more confused than ever. "He...he said that he'd wanted to see me. But that we couldn't be together. He said that there were things I didn't know about him, and that's why he couldn't let me in."

You practically heard her bones crack as Rose retracted her neck so hard you could see it in your peripheral vision. "Well that doesn't necessarily sound like he doesn't _like_ you."

"But it's just been so confusing. For the longest time, he acted like he liked me. I actually thought that maybe there was a chance that he _loved_ me. But I was _so stupid._ He turned around the day he told me he was leaving and said that we would never be anything more than we already were—fucking with the occasional sleepover."

"So, he acted like he wanted something more than just fucking?"

"For a time." You nodded. "Up until the moment he told me he was leaving the school. He wanted me at his house all the time, he drove me to campus, bought me coffee, made us breakfast, shared his bed with me, held me while I slept, called me _baby,"_ you sneered at the memory, "and always told me how much he cared about me."

You turned to look at her, eager to gauge her reaction. It didn't disappoint. Rose's head was cocked to the side, her brow deeply creased, as she tried to make sense of what you were telling her. The more you revealed to her, the more you realized that Kylo's actions didn't add up.

"That doesn't sound like someone who doesn't want to be with you."

" _Thank_ you!" you exclaimed loudly. "Look, I'm not saying I expected the guy to put a ring on it, but to go from _that_ to 'you're not important to me and I only want to use you as a fuck-buddy,' is the single hardest one-eighty I've ever seen in my life!"

"Is there anything else that happened in his life that might have made him change his mind or give up on other distractions?" she asked, giving you a pointed look to suggest that you were the distraction to which she was referring.

"Well, when he told me he didn't want to be with me was when Hux had tried to have him fired and he'd decided to resign instead. I imagine it must have been stressful for him. But usually, stress makes him more...you know. Thirsty."

"Anything else? It sounds to me like something happened. Something changed. Not you—maybe something bigger than you. Bigger than Hux. Outside of your control."

It didn't take much time wracking your brain to realize that maybe something _had_ happened in his life that made him suddenly unavailable. Suddenly, you found yourself considering how little you knew about this family besides the fact that they were completely and utterly dysfunctional. Something easily could have happened with them as well, and you would have never been the wiser.

You took a deep breath and turned to Rose, filling her in once and for all about the mystery of Ben Solo and what very little information you had on him. You told her about the letter, confronting Ren the night at the bar, getting the confirmation that he had once been Ben Solo and had changed his name once he became estranged from his family once and for all. You told her that there was a nefarious background with his father, but you didn't know what it was, and that rather recently, his mother had fallen ill. In about forty five seconds, you'd told her everything you knew about Ren's family, and the time it took to lay everything out in the open was proof that you knew very, very little.

Rose was silent for a few moments after you stopped speaking, but the surprise and awe on her face spoke volumes. "So...wait. You're telling me that his parents are Leia and Han Solo? I literally _know_ about them! I've read about their whole family. The work they've done in war-torn and third-world countries. I mean, they're _famous!_ Why did he ditch his family and drop his name?"

Again, you shook your head. "I have no idea."

"There might be something there. Especially if his mom is sick," she pointed out. "I don't know. I feel like given how unstable he seems, it would be best to stay away. But suffice it to say that I think his repulsion isn't personal."

For a moment, you felt a flicker of hope in your heart: perhaps he _did_ care for you after all. But as soon as it had come, the small, weak flame was snuffed out by the reality that he'd said what he'd said, he was leaving, and whatever circumstances had caused him to turn away from you, you didn't have the power to change.

You felt more relieved than ever that you no longer had to single-handedly carry the burden of the secret that had been a weight on your shoulders since the end of last year. You finally felt empty of the guilt from withholding information from your best friend, but the same confusion and distaste was as present as ever, rolling slowly in your gut as you, Rose, Finn, and Poe all sat surrounding the coffee table at the latter twos' house.

Many congratulations had been given to Rose, and your male counterparts had given her plenty of drunken and felicitous cheek-kisses before thrusting mason jars of Everclear into your hands. You had to be honest with yourself; you'd missed living the life of a normal college student, enjoying trashy and delightful house parties with your friends. But this, what you had tonight, was perfect. Sitting in Finn and Poe's living room with all three of your closest friends, with belly-warming cups of alcohol and your whole lives ahead of you. But it wasn't enough to make you forget what had happened that night. Kylo's face, the pain and conflict etched to his expression as he struggled to explain to you why you couldn't be together, was burned freshly into your memory, and no decent and reasonable amount of Everclear was likely to snuff it out. But still, you tried, knocking back your drink and trying to focus on Rose.

Rose and you filled them in on the events of the night, sans Kylo Ren, of course, who admittedly had provided most of the action. But you told them all about the food, and gloated when they groaned in jealousy.

You were able to hold a conversation for quite a while before you found your eyes drifting towards the window. Suddenly, you were drowning in the realization of where you were—and who lived not five houses down the road.

Pondering Hux's smug expression and the common ground you two shared but had never acknowledged, you were distracted with thoughts of whether or not Hux might've been present at the gala that night, and with the possibility that perhaps you'd missed him.

Before thinking of an explanation, you stood. You thought quickly before turning to Rose. "Hey, I think I left something in your car. Could I borrow your keys?"

She tossed you her key-chain. As you caught it, you looked at your friends, your feet inching towards the door. You tried to gauge their reactions, cautious that perhaps they were suspicious of you. But all three of them, even Poe, were engaged in cheerful conversation, raising their cups or their mason jars, laughing as they spoke with wide smiles stretched across their luminous, if not slightly weary expressions. For a moment, you stood there, hand resting on the doorknob, and you took in the blissful image of your friends existing just as they should be—happy. As much as you wanted to be right there with them, your mind was constantly, simply, somewhere else.

Turning quickly around, you pulled the door open, quietly, fearful for capturing their attention, and ducked out through the threshold and onto the porch.

It was cold. The snow had stopped, and there was nothing but a light dusting on the ground, which you were sure would be gone by morning. But the air was still bitterly chilly. You shivered beneath your sweatshirt—the sweatshirt that replaced the gown you'd worn earlier, alongside a pair of pajama pants and Uggs. You pulled the sleeves over your hands before wrapping your arms around yourself in a warming hug. Taking a deep breath, you descended the porch steps, and set off in the same direction you had the other night—the other night, when you'd accidentally found Hux.

Your heart was loud and strong in your chest, and beat just a little bit faster than usual. A part of you felt odd, extremely odd, for seeking Hux out, of all people. As strange as it felt, you were resolved to at least try to see him. It was the strangest realization—coming to the conclusion and understanding that whatever his intentions, however flawed his actions, Hux was the one and only person who understood what you were going through, and understood the pain at the other end of the person causing it.

He was the only person you knew who'd also been hurt so colossally by Kylo Ren.

But would he even be out on the porch again? A part of you could picture him reading a book and sipping tea out on his patio quite regularly, but was that just wishful thinking? If he wasn't outside, you decided, then there was no way in hell you were ringing his doorbell.

You inhaled sharply as you approached his house; its sheer size meant you couldn't miss it, or forget which house was his, if you tried. It was the only decently sized house in the area, and well represented the Dean living amongst a bunch of college-kid-rented homes.

Hux was seated just the way he was the other night. This time, a different book rested in his hand, his other wrapped around a mug of something that you were sure had been steaming, but had since gone cold. His eyes raised the moment he heard twigs snapping underfoot, and slowly, he lowered his book when he saw that it was you.

You stood where you'd stood only a few nights before, under the same cold moon, the same enclosing darkness. But now, the tension between you was crumbled, the walls and battalions lying in rubble at your feet. You gazed at him with a soft understanding, holding your white flag, laying down your arms, screaming with your eyes that you just didn't want to fight anymore.

"I don't understand what the point of it all was," you whispered, furrowing your brow. It wasn't an attempt to fight or belittle, just a longing to understand. "You wanted him to be punished because you hate him, but now he's gone forever, and you'll never be able to prove a thing about what happened between us. What was the use? He's gone now, with a better job, and the rest of us are left further beneath him than we were before."

Hux didn't smile. And he didn't quite look kind. But you sensed an invisible white flag in his hand, too, as he placed down his book and his mug. Sighing softly, he stood, never once breaking eye contact with you, and dug his hand into the pocket of his coat. He took a few steps forward until he stood at the edge of the porch, and retrieved his hand from beneath the thickness of his outerwear. He now held a battered pack of Marlboros, and outstretched it towards you.

A white flag indeed.

You shook your head, but wordlessly climbed the steps as Hux sat down, joining him without permission, but somehow, you didn't feel as if you were imposing.

Hux pulled out a lighter next, and lit the cigarette that now rested between his ring and middle fingers. His hands were trembling slightly, you noticed, due to the cold, as he lit it. Bringing it to his lips, he inhaled deeply. His eyes fluttered shut. You noticed how much more relieved and calm he looked the moment he drank in a good lungful of smoke. As he exhaled, his shoulders relaxed and lowered. You watched the gray smoke billow into the air before disappearing into the winter fog.

Hux turned his face away. You kept your eyes on the lit cigarette. His fingers looked light and gentle, as if they could drop it altogether. "What matters is that he's gone," he said curtly.

"I thought you were jealous of him," you said. "So even though now he's going to have more prestige, more recognition, and more money, you're okay with that? I thought you wanted him to fail."

"I do want him to fail," Hux admitted. His face was blank. Only then did you realize how tired and worn the man appeared, but with an unmistakable stiffness. As if he had to clench every muscle just to hold himself together. "But first and foremost, I want him gone."

"So you'll be going for his job, then?"

He looked down, rolling the cigarette in his fingers. "I haven't gotten that far yet."

"You got him to resign and you're not even going to go for his job? Isn't that's what this was all about? Stealing his position?"

"It wouldn't be stealing if it's earned and deserved," Hux sneered, his usual snide flickering in his eyes as he tilted his face towards you. "But...no, in all honesty. None of this was a master plan to take his job. I just couldn't stand looking at the man."

You nodded, trying to understand, and remain considerate, compassionate. But still, you didn't fully comprehend Hux's intentions. "You could have left," you offered in a soft voice. "You didn't have to wait for him to go. You could have applied for the job he has now. Could have been bigger than him. Better. And you'd never have to see him again."

Hux pursed his lips, the cigarette still rolling between his pale fingers. He squinted his eyes slightly as he gazed off into the distance. Perhaps he was still mulling over his own intentions, trying to sort them out himself. "I don't want to be bigger or better than Kylo Ren," Hux explained slowly, with a sense of care. "All I ever wanted to do was teach. He took that opportunity from me."

"But what if he earned it, too?" you said. You couldn't help but feel for Hux. He was just a man passionate for a job that he lost to someone else, the same person to whom he'd lost all other opportunities and recognition. But Kylo was a brilliant man, and a brilliant professor. Hadn't he beaten Hux, fair and square?

Hux gave you a side glance, eyes cold. "I would argue that Kylo Ren isn't the most well-suited man to have authority over students," he said pointedly.

You tightened your lips. "Hard to argue with that," you admitted, and looked down at your lap.

The silence between you was thick and palpable for several moments. It was so quiet, you could practically hear the ash from Hux's cigarette falling onto the wooden, snow-dusted steps at your feet and sizzling as it burned.

But finally, he spoke. "He hurt you rather badly, I gather. I am sorry for that."

You exhaled. "I figured if anyone understood what it's like, it's you. Different ways, of course, but the same, really."

Hux considered this, bringing the cigarette to his lips and inhaling deeply again. You watched the muscles in his throat tense as he breathed, chin lifted to the dark sky. "We've both experienced the worst of him, I suppose."

The load in your heart lightened a bit at the words. At least, after all, you weren't alone. The two of you sat there, alone together, comforted by your mutual suffering, your mutual frustration, and your mutual longing, as Hux drained his cigarette.

What a tumultuous existence Kylo Ren had created for you.

And all you'd wanted was to go to school. Learn how to be a writer. Learn how to be a professional.

Instead...look at what he'd given you. All the pleasure, all the brilliant memories, but all the deep scars, too, the heavy burdens.

Hux flicked his cigarette, which, by this point, had burned to a nub. Seeing it had nothing left to offer him, he dropped it to the ground and stepped on it.

"I feel like I understand you now," you admitted. "Why you did what you did."

"And I you, I suppose."

You looked at each other in silence. Something connected you now, it was clear. Both of you had suffered at the hands of Kylo Ren, had felt crushed under the weight of his reign, had been cast to the side, casualties of his ambition. Perhaps that brought you closer.

But then, you realized, he was literally _getting closer._ You stared into Hux's eyes as his face tilted towards yours. They were a brilliantly serene hazel, somehow the color of both earth and sea. And you were so, so lonely, and he understood...

Before the blow came, your hand was on his chest, stopping him. Stopping you both. Separating your bodies and holding time still.

"No," you whispered, deflated, and dropped your head so you couldn't look at him. So he couldn't look at you. But you could feel his fingers, gentle and fleeting against your waist, _careful,_ even. Like he was afraid that the gentlest of touches would harm you. For a moment, you let yourself sit stunned in the fact that he seemed to be conscious of hurting you at all. You couldn't say the same for Ren.

"I'm sorry. That was...I'm so sorry," he whispered back. Calm. Patient. Understanding. All of the things you needed...but wanted in somebody else.

"I think I finally have you figured out, Hux."

"Armitage."

"Armitage." Your voice was so soft, it drifted like a gust of wind, barely audible and elusive. You raised your eyes to meet his. They were a soft, pale hazel, almost gray under the moonlight. Kylo's were so different. Under darkness, they seemed almost like a void. Armitage's were like pools of frosted twilight. And they seemed patient. Pained, but kind, underneath. "I think you'd be noble," you told him, exhaling, "and I think you'd turn yourself in." You tilted your head, examining his calm, but slightly dazed expression. Where Kylo was all rage and paramountcy, Hux was control and self-inhibition. "I have no desire to ruin an innocent man's career."

"An innocent man." Hux chuckled the words as he uttered them, but the look on his face told you that they must have tasted bitter in his mouth. He clasped his hands together in his lap, turning to stare ahead of himself once more, rigid and stiff, as if the tender moment that had nearly occurred never began to whatsoever. "I'm clearly not."

"You're one to talk," you whispered, releasing a small, sad, bitter laugh. "How many men's careers can I try to tank before I graduate?" You shook your head.

"You strike me as someone uncommonly strong and mature. I get the feeling you grew up earlier than those around you. Not that- not that that's any reason, g-gives me _any_ right t-to try and-" Hux stammered his apology again.

"Please don't punish yourself," you told him, shaking your head. "Please don't resign, or do anything stupid. I'm an adult. I _did_ grow up faster than those around me. I can make my own decisions and my own mistakes. Please don't get yourself in trouble for this."

Hux nodded curtly, but now, he looked stiffer and more rigid than you'd ever seen him before. Now, it was like he was avoiding your gaze at all costs, and would never look at you again.

You stood. "I think I've been enough trouble for one night," you told Hux, looking down at him. Hesitantly, his eyes flickered to meet yours.

"It's no trouble," he assured you softly. "Again, I'm sorry for...for trying to-"

You waved the words away, wanting no more trouble, no more frustration or sadness. "I think we're both really lonely."

You gave Hux a tiny wave as you slowly began to walk back to Finn and Poe's house. You'd been gone for a while. Hopefully they wouldn't be suspicious. You hadn't gone to Rose's car, of course, but that was an easy fix. You'd just say that whatever you'd been looking for wasn't there after all.

You felt warm already as you climbed the porch steps to Finn and Poe's. And for the first time in a while, you didn't feel quite as alone. The lights were on. They were waiting for you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life update/a word of thanks!
> 
> Between posting the last chapter just a few days ago and posting the chapter now, we’ve surpassed 900 kudos and are now past 1000. Unbefuckinglievable. Thank you guys so much. I just wanted to let you know how much your kind comments, kudos, and support means to me. I want to preface with neither my confidence as a writer nor how fast I’m churning out these chapters can be contingent on how many likes and comments this story gets. You are in no way responsible for buttering me up and making me feel good. However, still, you guys come through with so much kindness and support, even though you are in no way obligated to do so. I simply cannot thank you enough. You guys, as well as this STUPID STUPID story have helped me rediscover my love for writing and for the first time in a long time, I’m working on my own original works again. This IN NO WAY rests on your shoulders. At the end of the day, we can only find the motivation and discipline within ourselves, and can’t rely on others to do what we’re supposed to be doing. But still, I would be lying if I said this rediscovered love wasn’t in such a large part thanks to you guys.


	27. She Was Good To Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was as if a chateau had been compressed. How could something be a mix between a cottage and a castle? Somehow, the Solo’s home managed. To others, it would surely seem inviting, warm, and charming, what with its vines snaking up the front side, curving to hug around the windows, and perfectly groomed flowers shaping the foundation. A dream home, to some. To Kylo, a nightmare.
> 
> Because this was where he’d grown up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Readers,  
> This fic is now on the front fucking page of Kylo Ren/Reader works when sorted by kudos. Thank you all SO MUCH! This was never a goal or purpose for writing this work, and it still isn’t, (although obviously I did check because I was getting curious) but all the same, it feels really fucking good and I’m so grateful to you all. Thank you for reading, thank you for commenting, thank you for making tik toks about it, and thank you for sticking around. I adore each and every one of you, and I hope you’re all staying safe and healthy during these suckish times. 
> 
> P.S., I have used the word “colossal” in this fic like 20 times now, and never once have I spelled it right on the first time and not used spell check, including while writing this sentence.

Kylo arrived just after midnight. Everything about the estate seemed secure; the gate closed behind him as he drove into the courtyard. Han and Leia's home, which was now solely Leia's, loomed above him at three stories tall like a deadly shadow. It wasn't an enormous mansion, per se, but comfortably elegant, modest as an estate could be modest, spanning across a large, handsomely trimmed lawn. It would have been even grander if Han and Leia hadn't donated so much of their wealth to charitable causes—which, of course, was primarily Leia's doing. And so much of if came from the wealth Leia was born into. Kylo scowled at the house as he approached, crossing the courtyard with contempt in his heart. Like this house was his enemy. For a split-second, he felt the urge to strike a match and throw it into a window. Like burning it down would take away all the years he'd suffered inside the walls.

It was as if a chateau had been compressed. How could something be a mix between a cottage and a castle? Somehow, the Solo's home managed. To others, it would surely seem inviting, warm, and charming, what with its vines snaking up the front side, curving to hug around the windows, and perfectly groomed flowers shaping the foundation. A dream home, to some. To Kylo, a nightmare.

Because this was where he'd grown up.

He tried not to gaze across the courtyard. If he looked too hard, perhaps he feared he'd see an echo of a younger, moppy-haired version of himself playing tag with his cousins, or playing hide-and-seek behind flower boxes, vintage cars, and planter pots that were big enough to conceal a young child, tripping over stepping stones and falling into hedges, laughing so hard that his ribs ached.

A beautiful life. A perfect illusion.

He'd been so young back then. So naïve. About to learn that the world is cruel and children are expendable, weak, unimportant.

A woman emerged from the front door just as Kylo feared he'd have to make his present known—God forbid he have to knock on the door. He was fortunate his aunt had not only communicated with him over the phone, but hadn't dragged an unwelcomed family member out with her, too. At this point, Mara was the only relative he could half stand-- besides his mother, of course, who was likely bed-ridden. And it wasn't likely that even if the circumstances were more forgiving, Kylo would admit to longing to see her.

Mara stepped out of the threshold, red hair blowing in the wind. She pulled her elm-colored faux mink blanket more tightly around her shoulders.

She opened her mouth to greet her nephew. He didn't give her the chance.

"How is she?"

"She's doing very well." Mara nodded, eyes piercing Kylo's with a sort of aggressive sensitivity he wasn't quite comfortable with.

Kylo eyed his mother's estate like it was a living, breathing beast, like he _feared_ it. Like crossing the threshold would electrocute him on the spot. "She's inside?"

Mara blinked patiently, silently understanding that whether or not he wanted to enter, he wouldn't, because he felt like he couldn't. And while she was quite confident he'd sooner admit to the fault of his father's death than admit that he was _afraid_ to go inside, that he felt that he had lost that right. Such a pity, when all his mother wanted was to see him.

"She's resting. And she's in good company. Good comfort," Mara assured him.

Kylo looked up towards the building, squinting against the warm glow of the lanterns that hung above the entryway. Crickets chirped lowly somewhere in the distance. The moon hung in the sky like its purpose was to adorn the house.

"And your husband?" Kylo wondered.

Again, patiently, Mara blinked, and took a slow breath. "Your uncle is inside, too. Taking very good care of your mother."

Kylo's jaw tensed, but he nodded.

"How have you been, Kylo?" she asked softly.

For the first time since their conversation had begun, Kylo turned to look at her. She smiled softly with kind lips. Kylo was quick to wipe the hope from her expression, shaking his head fervently and shoving his hands into his pockets. "I don't want to talk about me."

"Kylo," she said, with a voice that more or less said, ' _cut the shit,'_ without, somehow, being unkind. "I can tell when something's bothering you, you know."

Kylo gave a tired shrug. "My mother's recovering from a heart attack; what do you expect?"

"You know your mother's been on the uptick for two months now."

"I wouldn't say she's on the uptick, or else I wouldn't be here."

Mara took another slow, calming breath. "To remind you, Kylo, she was doing just fine before she fell. But she's only sprained her wrist; she'll be okay, save for a few bruises. I know it's been a very difficult recovery process for all of us. But her doctor expects her to be fully healed given a little bit more time. She's doing really well, Kylo. I'm so glad you're here. She'll...she'd really be happy to see you."

Kylo scuffed his foot, mindlessly kicking a pebble that rested on the steps. He said nothing. For a few moments, Mara hung in the silence, waiting for him to respond, or to give any indication whether or not he was going to go inside. He'd be delusional not to, she thought; he'd come all this way, after all. But he was planted in stillness and silence, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes tired, foot still fumbling with the pebble. He was standing in limbo, virtually motionless underneath the entryway of his childhood home.

Mara cleared her throat. "It must be difficult, not feeling like you're able to talk to your mom when there's something on your mind."

"Why are you being so indignant?" he asked, glancing at his aunt once more, giving his shoulders another uptight shrug.

"Have we met?" she asked, quirking a brow. "I'm just saying. I've known you for a while, Kylo, and I can tell when there's something on your mind." Mara turned away, pretending to fumble with the tassels that lined her blanket, a small smile painted on her lips.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"I think you do, and I think I'm right, otherwise, you would have gone inside."

"You know I have no desire whatsoever to take another step into this house ever again."

"I know, but you came anyway, so what was the point?"

"The _point_ was that I want-" Kylo began speaking quickly. Hotly, even. But just as quickly, he stopped himself, and took a deep, steadying breath. His broad chest expanded, filling with air, and he felt his button-down shirt tighten around his ribs. "I would have _liked_ to see Leia."

"You know, I think it's really tasteless when children refer to their parents by their first name. Call me old-fashioned."

"Well, I'm not a child."

Mara was careful to make no retort. She simply cleared her throat again as if doing so would clear the air, and re-shifted atop her feet. "Things aren't easy back home, are they?" she tested the waters with a faux-casual voice; perhaps if he wouldn't have wanted her to ask about that, then he wouldn't have heard her at all and subsequently, wouldn't yell at her in a fit of rage. A child, indeed.

The muscles of Kylo's jaw tensed so hard that Mara could see them moving beneath his skin. Scowling slightly, he responded without looking her: "I've just accepted a new position with the biggest publishing firm in the city. I'm escaped from the pathetic, bureaucratic politics that always held me back at that godforsaken school," he sneered. "For the first time in a while, things finally make sense."

Mara furrowed her brow, cocking her head a hair to the side as she studied Kylo, her eyes digging beneath his skin and crawling inside his mind. Damn her, he thought. She was extremely intelligent, perceptive. In some ways, she reminded Kylo of himself. But somehow, she was able to maintain that kind of clever disposition without having to hold onto her anger. For a long time, Kylo was inclined to the belief that intelligent people, people whose minds were deep enough to understand the world and the pain one gets from living in it, would live unhappy lives, burdened with a harsh reality. Then he met his uncle's wife; but then again, he'd always thought of her as a completely different species.

Mara's face was perfectly clear: unconvinced and weary from hearing so much bullshit. But it was her silence that said it all. Kylo looked at her, as if the longer he did, the more time she'd have to decide that he was telling the truth after all—that things back in Boston had never been better.

But Mara's bullshit-meter could put even that of Kylo's to shame.

Knowing that he'd been beat, that she saw right through him as she saw right through everybody, he sighed in defeat. "Well, they _should._ They _should_ make sense," he complained loudly, fully exasperated. Good God; after a four hour drive, a sick, albeit recovering mother, and his least favorite family member only separated from him by mere walls and windows, all he could think about was the _girl_.

Her hair, the taste of her lips, how she murmured in her sleep, the way her body seemed to drown in one of his oversized button-down shirts. Sometimes, when he laid alone in bed at night, when he closed his eyes, he could almost feel her arms curling around him, her face nuzzling into his neck. Like a memory. A ghost. An echo of everything he'd give to feel again.

But how could he have kept her? How could she have fit into his mess of a life? Ever since his adolescence, Kylo had been forging his own independence. He'd staked his life on being his own person, unencumbered

He'd spent his life forging a path, a path that had only one meaning: life is better without fear, without weakness. It was the core of his being.

"Why did you marry my uncle?" Kylo asked suddenly.

Mara looked at him with an odd expression. "I don't understand."

"It's a simple question; don't overthink it."

Mara laughed. "Well, I guess I married him because I love him. Generally, that's why people do it."

Kylo shook his head, chewing impatiently on his lower lip. "But why would you want to be with him, he's an idiot."

This time, Mara scoffed. "He's not an _idiot,_ Kylo, that's a terribly disrespectful thing to say," she told him firmly. "He is, however, a bit unorthodox."

"He was living off the grid when you met him, wasn't he? I don't even get how you two met," he mumbled around a mouthful of lower lip.

"Well, that's actually a _really funny_ story," she laughed. "We-"

"No, I don't care," Kylo muttered, holding up a hand absentmindedly. "Luke's a nutjob. He spent his life bouncing around the globe, shirking his responsibilities, and when our family fell apart, he was nowhere to be found. How can you say that you love him? I don't understand it."

Mara blinked, mulling over Kylo's words for a few long moments. Finally, she folder her arms over her chest. "It seems that you and I have a very different view of Luke," Mara said, lifting her chin. "But when you put it like that, Kylo, you paint yourself and him in a similar light. Exiling himself from his family. It's not unlike what you're doing now."

Kylo froze mid-pace, and for a crippling moment, Mara feared he might lose his temper. But after contenting himself with simply smoldering her with an icy glare, Kylo turned away once more. Mara breathed deeply.

"Are you asking me if he's worthy of love? Are you trying to ask me if _you're_ worthy of love?"

"I'm trying to ask you how anyone could be so stupid as to put their well-being in the hands someone unreliable."

"I'm confused. In this situation, are you saying that Luke is unreliable, or _you're_ unreliable?"

"I'm saying that everyone is unreliable," Kylo hissed. "From my perspective, _everyone_ is unreliable except me. And from _your_ perspective, everyone should be unreliable, too. Including me. And _certainly_ including Luke."

Mara shook her head. For the first time that night, she was looking at him with pity. Unfortunately, she was sure that it wouldn't be the last time she was filled with sorrow for the boy. "I think you've got it all wrong," she whispered. "You have this misinformed idea that strength is found only in independence, and that's why you can't bring yourself to love anyone. Not even your mother. But what you have to understand is that real love will never strip you of your identity. It will strengthen it."

Kylo inhaled deeply. The air left a bitter taste on his tongue. Grimacing slightly, he shook his head. Despite what she was trying to explain to him, he couldn't grasp it. He could understand complex, antiquated literary works, nearly unintelligible pieces of fiction and poetry. But love? He didn't understand that at all. He doubted he ever would.

"Then how do you know that he won't hurt you? That he won't pack his bags tonight, and you'll wake up to an empty bed?"

Mara blinked. "I don't. We can't be sure that we know anything. But I _trust_ him."

"That's stupid," he sneered.

"You shock me, Kylo, given what you do for a living" she chuckled softly. "You study poetry. And I think the poets would disagree with you on this one."

"Then maybe it's a good thing I'm no longer an English professor."

"Maybe," she considered.

Something in Kylo's heart twinged at her agreement. He paid it no mind.

"So, who is she?" Mara asked after another painful silence.

Surprised, Kylo pulled his gaze away from the moon to look at his aunt. "How did you know?"

At that, Mara released an open-mouth, full-bodied laugh. Kylo clenched his jaw as he watched her entire slim frame quake with amusement and hilarity. To her, he truly looked like nothing but a confused, lost boy. And she was positive that when it came to love, let alone any vulnerable emotion, he felt like one.

"You're a man of poetry and classical literature cursing the names of love and trust like you're Shakespeare during his dark period. You're a scholar who studies the greatest literary works of all time. You understand love and trust just fine, Kylo. You're just rejecting them."

Kylo sucked on his teeth like there was something sour in his mouth.

"Who is she?" she repeated gently.

"A student."

"Oh, good _God,_ Kylo _-"_

Quickly, he held up a hand. "I know. I don't want to hear it."

"That's awful," she scolded.

"It is, isn't it?" he replied flatly.

Mara gritted her teeth and took a deep breath, staring at him, and tried to understand her nephew, to give him the benefit of the doubt. For the time being, she swallowed down all the hesitation she felt towards what Kylo had just told her, and tried to uphold a sense of patience. "Something bad happened?" she gathered.

He nodded.

"You didn't get caught..."

Kylo shook his head. "But I let her walk out of my life. Maybe forever. I told her I didn't want her as anything other than a bedfellow." He sniffled loudly, and tried not to look at his aunt.

"But you regret it," Mara inferred, from the withdrawn look on his face alone.

Kylo shrugged, and then shook his head. "I can't. I can't bring her into...all this," he said, gesturing towards the house.

"Then maybe it's time you make amends with your mother and Lu-"

"It's not just that," Kylo said, quick to slice through her unfinished words. "The last few months with her have been some of my happiest, but they've also been..." Shaking his head, Kylo allowed the words to trail off and die in midair. He was hardly about to admit to his aunt that he was _afraid._

There was no place for fear in his life. Not anymore.

"Do you love her?" Mara asked.

For a moment, Kylo was silent. But not forever. "She was good to me," he muttered.

"But do you _love_ her?" she repeated excitedly

She held her breath while she awaited his answer. Was there really someone out there that had taught Kylo Ren how to love, to feel? Suddenly, Mara no longer found she cared the girl was a student. She could have been Godzilla, for all Mara cared, as long as the girl had finally brought her nephew back to the right path.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I don't know what that feels like."

Standing under the threshold of his childhood home, where he'd been raised by parents who loved with and cousins his age with whom he could play, she looked intently into his eyes, and sighed. "You do. Search harder."

Kylo sighed, puckering his lips but not dropping her gaze. Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he turned to the front door and stared at it. Like it was one more obstacle he had to defeat.

Mara eyed him, but despite herself, felt excitement jolting within her. She tried to keep a straight, calm face, as if Ben could be frightened, or angered away at the slightest sign of emotion. Carefully, she held him tightly within her gaze.

With one foot beneath him and one on the step above, Kylo held strongly to his gaze on the front door. For a split-second, she was positive he was going to go in. Why would he have come all this way just to achieve something he could have achieved with a mere phone call? No, he traveled this great, tedious distance, in the dead of night, because he intended, after all these years, to finally go inside.

He made a motion, a twitch of sorts towards the door. And then, catching himself, he sniffled, running a hand down his jaw, the epitome of a tormented man trying to uphold the guise of composure and poise, when he was anything but.

He turned, giving Mara the briefest of glances. "Give my mother my best," he said, and set off for his car. "I'm staying at a hotel in the city. I'll be here for the weekend," he called over his shoulder. "Call me when my uncle's gone."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> House vibes  
> https://i.pinimg.com/564x/52/99/69/5299694539ae355b5995619411c02efc.jpg


	28. If I Can't Save Us, I Have to Save Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Fine,” you breathed, brushing away the tears that betrayed you by spilling over your cheeks. “But that means no more texts. No more calls. No more dragging me along. You can’t use me as a crutch anymore. Or your therapist. I’m done. No more seeking me out if we wind up in the same place,” you gasped. The memories flashed before you, how inexplicably, time after time, somehow, you and Kylo always seemed to wind up in the same crowded room, be it at a bar, at a gala. And finding his face in the crowd made you feel like the world disappeared, and all of the other bodies were stripped away from the earth, and it was just you and him, alone. You looked upon those memories fondly. Cherishing them made it all the harder to bear. “And no more asking to meet me. No more kissing me, hidden away between book stacks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT: Thank you so much to Kim for editing this chapter! You guys should check her out on tiktok @marriedtokyloren
> 
> ~Announcements, please read!~
> 
> Hey fam! So, I have a big announcement for you today. I am so lucky to have written nearly 30 chapters of this work. This is crazy to say, but I’ve plotted this saga to the very last chapter. I’m here to tell you that by estimation, chapter 45 will be the end of Hurt me Harder. This number may give or take, as some chapters may melt together, while others may need to be divided once they’re being written. I’m glad that there’s probably a couple more months of writing for me and reading for you. But I don’t want it to end! However, I also don’t want to drag it out and do you an injustice. Thank you so, so much for your devotion and love. And don’t fret- we’ve still got a ways to go.
> 
> I also want to preface with this chapter, and the few leading up to it, I know it may seem like things are coming to a bleak end. I hope it’s not seeming monotonous, like I’m dragging it out. I do feel like I wish I would have compressed a few of these last chapters. But ya know… I wanted them to have another go at it, I’m not perfect, and I’m doing my best. So like…maybe prepare yourself for the low point? But also…we can only go up from here. So please don’t worry- I am not going to leave you hanging.
> 
> SO. If I can give any words of advice from a writing standpoint to a reading standpoint, I’d say that this story is set up to consider everything up until this chapter to serve as “Book 1” so to say, whereas the next chapter, chapter 29, and to the end, could be considered an informal sequel. I actually considered making this two different works in the same saga to make that divide a bit clearer, but ultimately decided to keep everything together. There’s a lot coming. So with that being said, I hope you enjoy, and I hope very much that it’s worth the wait!
> 
> Also, WATTPAD! I’m considering expanding this story to wattpad. I like…don’t understand wattpad at all? Not in a negative way-- I’ve just never used it before? But I want to make this story accessible for anyone who wants to read it and I’ve seen some people on tiktok ask if it’s on wattpad. The only thing is I don’t know how I’d make one of the cute little story covers, which I’d like to have. But anyway. I know people have different platforms that they prefer. So keep an eye out for that!

"Fuck, shit," you muttered, scrambling over towards your bag, which rested against the foot of your desk. You squat down, fingers darting to shuffle through its contents. Yep. Sure enough, you were missing two textbooks and a binder.

You retrieved your phone from your back pocket to reply to Poe.

 _I didn't even realize I left them at your place. Sorry. I'll swing by to pick them up in a few,_ you hastily typed back.

Naturally, your life was so disheveled lately (thanks to the certain dual-identity of a former English Lit professor/lover and current sworn-enemy) that the instant you finally had a free second to work on grading papers for Kryze, you realized your books were missing. And in the same five seconds that you picked up your phone to ask Poe if he had them, he texted _you_ to confirm that they were sitting in the corner of his living room.

You sighed as you stood, slinging your bag over your shoulder, remembering a time, long ago, when you weren't constantly frazzled and stressed. You'd hoped, or perhaps assumed, that Kylo Ren's exit would at least mean that you could at least get back on track when it came to your work. But Kryze was swiftly proving to be just as much as a hard-ass as Ren, and now, you had even more to prove, and more on the line. Now was your time to show yourself that you weren't a TA just because you'd fucked Ren, and to prove to Kryze that you were half-competent as an assistant. You hated to admit it, but at least before, you had some sense of job security.

Now that Ren was gone, you were on your own.

And those papers should have been graded yesterday.

You shoved your way out of your bedroom door and practically sprinted for the exit of your suite. Your phone buzzed in your hand. _Jesus, I'm coming, Poe,_ you thought.

"Rose, can I borrow your car? Emergency."

"Sure," she said, and with her permission, you scooped up her keys from the coffee table. But you couldn't make it another step before she said your name.

You halted in your tracks. Your muscles clenched with frustration and the urgency to get to Poe's, get your books, and get your work done. But Rose was leaning excitedly in her seat, looking at you with eagerness in her eyes.

You turned to her, but didn't say anything. In the same millisecond, you wished you were less of an asshole to people you cared about when you were stressed, but also felt yourself leaning towards your exit.

"I was thinking..." she began. "Just how fucking weird it was the way Kylo left things."

"Rose, I really don't want to talk about-"

"Just hear me out," she said. "You mentioned something to me the other night...the woman at the gala."

You wracked your brain. Honestly, you didn't like talking about Ren, even with Rose. But admittedly, you'd let slip a few details over a glass of wine or two in the week since she'd found out about everything. Yes, you remembered, you _had_ mentioned something about the annoyingly pretty ex-girlfriend of Kylo Ren, though it was practically nothing to go off of.

"Rose, I really don't know who that woman was," you explained, plainly exasperated. "All I know is that she was in the same grad year as Kylo, they might have dated, and she has blond hair and blue eyes, literally _so_ hot and perfect and beautiful that I nearly launched myself off the top of the building where they held the gala."

"Right. That's the part of your description that stuck out to me," Rose said, grinning as she spun her laptop around so the screen faced you instead.

For a second, you weren't sure what you were looking at. And then, you realized that it was page from a commencement magazine. Black and white photos from a document that had clearly been scanned into a digital format stared back at you, faces on a grid with tiny writing underneath each portrait. You took a step forward. Suddenly, the urgency of your mission to rush to Poe's had disappeared almost completely from your mind.

You leaned down until your eyes were level with the computer. At the top of the page read: _PhD in English Literature._ The entire page was filled with maybe ten or fifteen photos.

You found Kylo Ren's in an instant.

"Most students don't know that the school's online library has archives of every single school-issued document," Rose explained. "Newsletters, newspapers, publications. _And_ commencement magazines. So really, it wasn't hard to find."

Blurry, black and white, and slightly unfocussed, Kylo stared back at you nonetheless. He scarcely smiled these days, so in this inky photo, he seemed to glow. He donned a sleek suit and tie, and held his diploma tightly to his chest as if it was his firstborn child. He beamed up at you, eyes seeming to glimmer even in the form of lifeless ink. You weren't sure you'd even seen him look this happy; but here he was, with the innocent pride of years of hard work and accomplishments gripped tightly in his hands.

Your heart sank deeper and deeper in your chest the longer you stared at the photo, and you longed to see him look at _you_ like that.

You sniffled and pulled away, eager to get away from him—even as nothing more than a photo. "What does this have to do with the woman at the gala?"

"Well," Rose began, turning her laptop back around, fuddling with the keys. "I found the commencement mag from his master's program, and I couldn't find anyone who matched her description. And even in his PdD, program, I couldn't find anyone who looked the way you made her sound. But then I realized, all we know is that she's some kind of writer. That doesn't mean she'd be in the exact same program as Ren."

She swung her laptop around again.

This time, the header read _MA in Journalism._ A new grid of happy graduates lined the page. And her outrageously beautiful face practically popped out of the laptop screen and landed in your hands. Without a doubt, the woman from the gala was staring back at you.

Even in the low-quality image, her soft, silvery waves managed to shine, cascading down past her shoulders, resting softly atop her chest. Big, expensive looking diamond earrings gleamed at the sides of her face, and her smile was big, taut, and flawless. You recognized each of her features: almond-shaped eyes and eyelash extensions, shapely brows, flawlessly straight teeth, plump, glossy lips, high cheekbones...

"It's her," you breathed.

"Cora Tille," Rose said, "graduated with an MA in journalism. It makes sense...they did their grad programs together—she did her MA while Kylo did his doctoral. Both completed writing programs. Some of their classes probably even overlapped."

 _Cora Tille_. "Good fucking God, she looks like Candice Swanepoel," you groaned, suppressing the urge to stamp your foot in defeat.

"I know," Rose scoffed, closing her laptop. You were grateful you didn't have to look at the woman's stupidly perfect face for another second. "The way you described her...I could tell it was who we were looking for by the way I fucking hated myself after staring at her for two fucking seconds."

"Who we're looking for?"

"You said she said something really ominous about Kylo, didn't you? And you said they dated. If we can figure out where she works, _who_ she really is, maybe we can _somehow_ find out something helpful about Kylo."

"That's brilliant," you breathed, though weren't quite sure what exactly it was you were aiming to accomplish. "That's...Rose, you're brilliant. Can I just...can this wait? Like a couple hours? I have a ton of stuff to do and then I'll...then, we can figure out what the _fuck_ Kylo did to his dad."

Grinning, Rose nodded. You felt your phone buzz incessantly in your hand once again. You pressed one of the side volume buttons to make it stop. "I gotta go," you said, finally breaking for the door. "But I'll be back. You're a genius!" you called.

There was no time to look back. The second you were out the door, you bustled down the hall, out the back stairwell, and into the parking lot. Your phone buzzed again when you stepped outside, and you mentally praised Rose for her diligent detective work on one hand, and cursed Poe for his evident impatience on the other. Without even glancing at the screen of your phone, you pressed the lower left-hand corner to accept the call as you brought it up to your ear.

"Poe, I _swear to god,_ I'm on my way! Can you just give me two fucking sec-"

"I need to meet with you."

You halted dead in your tracks, words dying on your tongue. Your breath caught in your throat. Your entire body went cold, as if you'd been plunged into a frozen lake. It wasn't Poe.

It was Ren.

"Why..." you stammered breathlessly, barely able to form words. "I don't..." You removed the phone from your ear and looked down at your screen. It now displayed a nondescript number with no-caller ID. You'd already deleted his contact from your phone, knowing it would keep you from contacting him.

You never considered that _he_ would try to contact _you._

"Meet me at the library," he said. "Quickly."

You stood planted in the middle of the blacktop stretch of pavement, like tree roots were bursting from the earth and wrapping around your ankles, making _you_ planted and unmovable as well. You stared ahead, your phone to your ear, Rose's car a few yards in front of you in its usual spot.

You couldn't...you couldn't _do_ this anymore. Not only did you have other things to take care of, but you'd promised yourself you wouldn't be a victim of his confusing mind-games and bone-crippling indecision anymore. You had a new professor now. Someone who was counting on you to get your work done on time. Someone who wouldn't let you off easy for sleeping with them.

So, it was decided, you realized, in your silence, in your hesitation. You wouldn't see him anymore. Not for anything. Never again.

"Okay," you murmured.

Your eyes shut. You hissed a curse under your breath.

Kylo was silent for a moment, too. You wondered if he'd expected that answer. Finally, he gave you a curt, "good _._ Use the back entrance. And lock the door behind you _._ " And the line went dead.

"Fuck. Fuck. Failure. You're a failure. Fucking idiot," you hissed as you began to power-walk towards the car. You gripped the keys tightly in your hand as you clambered into the front seat, furiously throwing your bag into the passengers' side. Shoving the keys into the ignition, you realized that your fingers were already shaking.

You started the engine and pulled out of the lot. If you had any sense, you'd forget the library, and you'd go straight to Poe's. But you didn't. You turned right on Brookline Street instead of left, deeper into campus and in the opposite direction of Finn and Poe's, not even stopping to consider that it was past seven o'clock on a Sunday, and the library was no longer open.

Within minutes, you found yourself parked on the street behind the library. This entrance was more secluded, and as it was a weekend, you expected that few, if any people, would be on this part of campus. You left your bag in the car and climbed out, hoping the crisp late-winter air would bring you to your senses, or at least calm your nerves.

It didn't.

You approached back entrance of the library, holding your breath until you reached the door. But the library was closed, and suddenly, that fact seemed a bit more pressing now that you were here. How many times had you tried to come to the library on a Sunday, only to forget for that some stupid reason, it wasn't open seven days a week?

You lifted your hand, and were surprised to find that it swung open. That was Kylo Ren's doing, you figured. You did as he asked, ducking inside and locking the door behind you.

You turned. Stared at the flight of steps that lead to the main floor. You took a deep breath, and with it, all of your hesitations, the voices of your conscience, died and withered. And you began to climb.

You came to the lobby, but didn't seem him. Would he be waiting for you? You looked to your left, and there, finally, you found him-- under the archway to the main hall. Pacing. You squared your shoulders, clearing your throat to make yourself known.

Quickly, he turned, and lowered the hand that was raised and running tersely through his hair when he saw you.

Good lord; it was like he was moving slow motion. He relaxed when he saw you, even if just for a split-second. Kylo dropped his arms, dropped his shoulders, and seemed, for a split-second, to shrink before you.

But whatever vulnerability you sensed in him was gone in an instant. Briskly, he stepped forward and wrapped a hand around your wrist before he began to walk. "Follow me," he muttered. As if you had a choice.

He led you deep into the main room. It was a dark, archaic hall, lined with antique mahogany shelves that towered above you, reaching and stretching towards the unreachably tall ceiling, each inch of the room spilling colors of deep hickory and walnut and maroon. He led you deeper inside, past rows of traditional table-and-chair style desks, before he took a sharp turn, pulling you in between two stacks of shelves. Quickly, you found yourself sandwiched between a tall shelf and Kylo Ren himself, realizing just how very alone you were.

He stood close to you for several quiet, almost peaceful moments. He was nearly pinning you against the shelf behind you, but left just enough room for you to breathe. Still, you felt rigid and tense, but _longing,_ too, breath heavy with desire and despair. And a strong, unmistakable yearning for things to just be _different_ between the two of you.

Kylo held his breath in his chest so tightly that you could see how it puffed out as he attempted to gather himself. Subtly, but just noticeably so, he shifted on his feet, and you half expected him to turn and run the other way. But he ran a hand down his clenched jaw before turning to you at last.

"You've done a lot of explaining. For my benefit. And I...I appreciate you telling me how I might have...made things difficult for you," he said.

Involuntarily, you pinched your brow. Was Kylo Ren... _apologizing_ to you? Even if it was an attempt, it was much more than he'd ever given you before. And it was...really weird. You shifted uncomfortably, feeling the shelf brush against your back, as Kylo Ren tried to, evidently, own up to his actions without so much as touching the words "I'm sorry." Good lord; was the man's life so broken, was his relationship with his parents so fraught that they'd never been able to teach him how to apologize?

"Difficult," you breathed, pondering the word. Somehow, it seemed to encase the sum of your relationship with Kylo, while still being wildly inadequate. "Difficult" didn't cover the half of it. Throw "complicated," "agonizing," and "addicting" into the mix, and maybe you'd get somewhere. "I...don't know what to say," you scoffed.

"You don't have to say anything," he said, eyes wide. "I only thought it would be...fair, that I explain some things to you, in turn. You deserve to know why I can't be with you."

You clamped your eyes shut. Pain flooded your core, and spread through the rest of your extremities, blinding you with pain. He was rubbing salt into the fucking wound. Was he doing this on purpose? "Why are you beating me like a dead fucking horse? Just let it go _._ Believe it or not, I don't care to know why it is you don't feel the same way about me. Just _let me go."_ Your voice trembled. You felt the urge to curl into a ball on the floor. But you wouldn't—not in a million years. Not for him.

"Because as difficult as it might be to hear, I think you deserve to know _why,"_ he reiterated. "I can't bring you into my life like that. Not when I've lived it a certain way. Not when I have a family I haven't seen in years suddenly busting down my door. I can't betray everything my life experience has ever taught me. I can't be weak. I can't. Not even with you. Not even when you make me..."

He stared at you, and you stared back, waiting for him to continue. You searched every corner of your heart for the will to hate him, but as always, came up empty.

And then, when he reached for you, you didn't hesitate. You should have. But Kylo as lunged forward, in the same instant, your arms were around him. You felt your back slam up against the bookshelf behind you as your lips met, wet and longing. It felt familiar and safe in his arms, against his mouth, and you exhaled, as if kissing him with every force and fiber of strength and desperation would wipe away the pain of all the wasted months you'd given him.

You opened your lips, and his tongue slid greedily into your mouth. Yours met it, and you breathed him in. His hands lifted your waist, and your butt landed on the edge of a shelf that was level with his hips. You opened your legs and ripped him closer to you, fingers tightly holding his face. Maybe if you kissed him hard enough, felt him deeply enough, it would tide you over for a lifetime without him.

Kylo groaned into your mouth. You breathed heavily in response; perhaps it was that sound you'd miss most of all. The sound of him caught in his own pleasure, struggling against your lips. Wedging his hips in between your thighs, he dipped his head down into the crook of your neck, tasting and nipping your skin. Your face lifted upwards, your eyes fluttering. All your senses could take in was the blissful, wet pressure of Kylo's lips against your clavicle and the color of the warm, chestnut wood of the ceiling. Your fingers curled in his hair, your hips bucking forward, your core brushing against his crotch, feeling him rock-hard and rigid. You groaned loudly, the sound coarse and gritty as it ripped through your throat.

Christ, you wanted him, and you knew it would reopen the half-healed wound that plagued your chest, but you'd already been with him so many times before. What was one more?

But you knew. You knew, as much as you wanted to, you couldn't go any further than this.

Your hands found his collar, resting in fists against his chest. And gently, but just strongly enough, you pushed him away. His lips held to yours for as long as they could. But all too soon, you were separated by space and air once again.

Your breath hitched in your throat. His hands rested on your waist, supporting you lightly as you dropped your legs back to the ground, lowering yourself off the shelf. Huffing and panting for air, you kept yourself pressed against the bookshelf. He lowered his hands. And took a step back.

His chin just barely pointed down towards the floor, and he looked somewhat sheepish. Ashamed, frustrated, maybe. Like what he'd just done wasn't at all what he'd come here to do.

"You haven't changed your mind," you said, needing to know the truth. Why he had asked you here. "You still don't want to be with me."

"I've told you," Kylo breathed, "that things can go back to normal between us."

"But they'll never be anything more than what they were?"

Kylo's eyes flickered back up from the floor to land in your gaze. They were unfeeling, and unyielding. His silence said all you needed to know.

"Well, I've told _you,"_ you whispered, "that I'm not doing that."

Kylo puckered his lips, but said nothing.

"Who is Cora Tille?" you breathed suddenly.

Kylo furrowed his brow. There wasn't a trace of recognition on his face.

Your heart sank. "She was someone who loved you. And you don't even remember her name. And that's why I can't stay."

His jaw clenched. For a moment, you thought he'd protest. Then, silently, he just nodded.

"Fine," you breathed, brushing away the tears that betrayed you by spilling over your cheeks. "But that means no more texts. No more calls. No more dragging me along. You can't use me as a crutch anymore. Or your therapist. I'm done. No more seeking me out if we wind up in the same place," you gasped. The memories flashed before you, how inexplicably, time after time, somehow, you and Kylo always seemed to wind up in the same crowded room, be it at a bar, at a gala. And finding his face in the crowd made you feel like the world disappeared, and all of the other bodies were stripped away from the earth, and it was just you and him, alone. You looked upon those memories fondly. Cherishing them made it all the harder to bear. "And no more asking to meet me. No more kissing me, hidden away between book stacks."

Kylo squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw, as if he was preparing himself for what he was about to say: "This is the last time."

You shattered. It felt like every bone in your body burst. It was a miracle you could stay standing. Because despite all the unnecessary pain he'd forced you to endure, every mile of ragged, rough terrain he'd dragged your heart across, _still,_ you loved him. Even if that was something you could no longer admit to him. Even if that was something you would no longer dare to admit to yourself.

"Then you promise to let me go?"

Kylo stiffened. He lifted his chin as he eyed you. Taking you in. For the last time.

And he gave another inflexible nod.

Your heart broke further. But you inhaled deeply. Lungfulls of air and relief washed over you. It was finally over.

"Kylo," you sighed. "I..."

"I know," he breathed.

Stiffly, you nodded, wiping your cheeks again. You didn't have it in your heart to say anything else. You held his gaze until the moment you turned to leave. He watched you go. You could feel his eyes on the back of your neck, but you didn't turn back. You walked silently out the door, with not so much as a _good-bye._

You took a drive before you set off to Poe's. Along the river, through silent, wealthy neighborhoods with stunning architecture. It was nice, surrounding yourself with beauty and silence as you cried it out and cleared your mind. It couldn't have been under than forty-five minutes that you finally decided you had too much to do to worry about Kylo anymore, and decided, internally, that this was your last time shedding tears over him.

You parked down the street from Poe's, wiping your eyes. You'd cried it all out for the time being at least, and you figured you would make it your life's mission to stave off the tears going forward. You walked briskly around the car to the passenger's side to retrieve your bag, trying to compose yourself.

The sound of your own name off of someone else's lips made you turn.

Hux was walking towards you, descending the steps of his porch, not so shockingly with a book in hand. Mentally, you pleaded with the universe that it wasn't too obvious that you'd been ugly-sobbing.

Hux briskly approached you, but landed with a few feet in between you. You gave him a sheepish smile.

"How are you?" he asked softly.

You nodded. "You know. Good."

"Good," he said, nodding too. The silence between you was painful.

Hux cleared his throat. "Look, I...I wanted to say that I...I appreciate everything you said the other night. I think you're very kind. And remarkable. And intelligent. You seem to have a deeper understanding of the world. And how difficult it can be. I get the sense that things haven't been easy for you. And I can't tell you how much I'd like to sit down with you over a coffee or tea and just..."

You nodded, smiling softly.

"But...given the circumstances," he said, clearing his throat again, dropping his gaze. "I think it's best we sever any...personal friendship and remain strictly...professional. Given...my position at the school. And given certain information I know about you and..."

"Oh." You dropped your gaze too, feeling yourself flushing. "Right. I understand."

Hux nodded curtly, giving you a tiny smile. "Right. Well...I wish you the best."

"You too, Dean Hux," you forced a tight smile. "See you around."

You didn't look at him when you turned to go. It was a real shame. You could have used a friend. You already had three remarkable ones, but none who understood your situation quite like Armitage. But perhaps this was for the best. If you were friends with Hux, then what else would you talk about other than Ren? This way, at least you could let his memory die. Let it _all_ die.

You returned home only a couple hours after you'd left. And Rose was still planted on the couch, this time, surrounded by notebooks and schoolwork.

"Hey!" she said when you walked through the door. "Ready to put your stalker hat on?"

You paused just past the threshold of your dorm and let the door close behind you. You took a deep breath. "About that," you muttered, clearing your throat. "Rose, I really appreciate... _everything_ you've done for me. All of it. But...I think I just got all the closure I needed. And I need to accept...I need us _all_ to accept, that that's all I'll ever know. And I just can't reopen those wounds." You took a sobering, stabilizing breath. "I'll never know what Kylo did to his dad, or why he hates his family so much, or why he refuses to love me," you said, raising your chin to meet her gaze. "But I think I can finally put it all to rest now."

Rose seemed to microscopely slink back in her chair. She looked slightly dejected, but held your gaze with compassion and understanding in her eyes nonetheless. Both of you nodded.

"Want a bottle of wine?" she asked, gesturing to the fridge. "I've been working on my project. But I have this classmate... _ugh._ He's the worst. Mind if I unload a little?"

You grinned. Your heart flooded with warmth. It wasn't enough to thaw it out. But given time...

"I'll grab the drinks," you said.


	29. Love Is A Bitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You should know…Ren’s working at the Boston Press. If that’s where your program’s taking place…”
> 
> You took a step back, shaking your head incessantly, somewhat defensively. “No. No, I mean- I know. He told me before he left. But no, I’m working at a small, independently owned press. Definitely not the Boston Press.”
> 
> “And he hasn’t…bothered you at all?”
> 
> You sighed, face painted with the subtlest of solemn smiles. “Not for six months. He’s gone, Hux. For the both of us. For good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me anonymously liking your tiktoks/tiktok comments:  
> https://media1.giphy.com/media/122kVpDEBF1pWE/source.gif
> 
> Also, me rereading old chapters to proofread and finding unintelligible typos that make absolutely no fucking sense, wondering why the hell you guys put up with it:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8X-ixRXnRMU

━━━┓ ✠ **PART II** ✠ ┏━━━

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

_"He's out your system, it took you a while_

_You got your family back and you got your smile._

_And you promised your sister that you'd never go back again."_

"Mother of god," you muttered maniacally as your fingers tore through the contents of the umpteenth box you'd looked through. "This is it. Fucking idiot. This is how I go." You inhaled on shuddering air, hands flying to your face in a wild, rabid motion. "ROSE!" you screamed, flying around as best you could in your awkward, squatting position, finally giving up your search. "I CAN'T FIND MY BINDERS!"

"What?" she called from downstairs.

You tore out of your empty and unpacked room, bracing yourself on the bannister at the top of the stairs. "I THOUGHT I KEPT THEM IN MY BACKPACK AND DIDN'T PACK THEM WITH THE REST OF MY SHIT, BUT I CAN'T FIND THEM ANYWHERE! I NEED THEM FOR MY MEETINGS!"

A moment of silence, and then-- "They're on the dining room table!" she called.

You ripped down the steps like you were The Flash incarnate, landing in the dining room, where, sure enough, you found your textbooks and binders.

Rose grinned as you scrambled them up. She was unpacking the brand-new kitchen—well, brand-new to _you._ For senior year, you and Rose had decided to rent a house. And now, you were neighbors with your two _other_ best friends—Finn and Poe. Not to mention a certain Dean of Students.

"I _knew_ I wouldn't have packed them," you said, shoving the materials into your backpack.

"You have everything you need?" she asked, tearing open a cardboard box of a brand-spanking-new dish set before walking into the dining room to meet you. "Your writing samples? Resume?"

"Yes, dear," you teased, rolling your eyes. "I have it all. Even though, if I have to _remind_ you, I've already bagged the internship. This is a preliminary meeting with the team."

"Well, there's no such thing as being too prepared," she lilted, before trailing back into the kitchen. "Are you on your way out?"

"Yes," you huffed, zipping your bag. "I have a meeting with the department head and then I'm headed to the city," you said, scooping up your keys from the dining room table. It was another upgrade for your senior year—you'd brought your car to campus this semester for your internship, and now, you were fully independent, no longer having to worry about the guilt of mooching off your friends.

"We need claw and beer," she told you, peering into your depressingly empty fridge, and frowning. "Can you pick some up on your way back?"

Finn and Poe were having a party tonight. Right. You'd almost forgotten, which was shocking; you were surprised to admit that by the end of summer, you sorely missed trashy, puke-ridden college house parties. And it was your last night of freedom before the start of the term. Having your own place now meant that you could be thrown into the mix of households that hosted them, but you decided to leave that to Finn and Poe—they were the experts, after all, and you and Rose weren't too keen on trashing your brand new crib. In just a few hours, you'd be stuffed into their old, messy house, drunk and happy and sweaty, surrounded by friends and strangers alike. "Yeah. God, I'm so excited," you groaned. After six months of nothing but unrelenting, non-stop work, you were itching for a night of fun and celebration.

"Bonus points if we get Hux to call the cops on us again."

You grinned, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

The cement sidewalks of campus, expansive quads, and stretches of lawn were littered with the blazing colors of September: crisp, rusty oranges and blood-reds that floated from the tops of trees to kiss blades of freshly-mowed grass.

A leaf crunched under your heel as you brushed past. More of them whipped around your ankles as the force of your pace sent them into tiny whirlpools around your feet. Your speed was so extreme that your calf muscles burned in protest, and your ankles were already sore from powerwalking on top of high-heeled ankle boots. You glanced at your watch. You only had twenty-five minutes to meet with the department head about your upcoming thesis, internship, your new (added) scholarship, and your standing in the running for the "outstanding senior" award. After winning an essay contest over the summer that had garnered you said new scholarship, you were proud to say you had successfully gotten yourself "on the radar," per se, even in the professional world. Exhibit A: your internship.

Shortly put, you were pretty much killing it lately.

But that also meant that in between all the freshman English students that stared and pointed at you when you an Rose had gone for a bookstore run—("a real **_published_** writer, and she's a _student_!")-- and all the _other_ internship offers that were piling up in your inbox, you hardly had time to breathe.

But a select few people in your life could make you pause even when you were at your busiest. And one of them was descending the steps of the admissions building as you strode briskly past it. You saw the flaming, red hair out of the corner of your eye and knew exactly who it was before your eyes even found a face.

You grinned as Hux strode towards you, and even in your hot pursuit, stopped in your tracks and waited for him to catch up to you.

"If it isn't this year's outstanding senior in the flesh," he greeted.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile stayed plastered on your face. "I'm not sure what you've been smoking, but the term hasn't even started yet. I have a ways to go before I secure my spot."

Hux gave you a small smile, one corner of his mouth tugging upwards mischievously, leaning in closer. "The way I've heard it, your name is already on a very select list on the desk of Mr. President himself."

"Stop," you said, drawing back, but eyeing him with excited uncertainty.

"I was just in his office yesterday," he told you with a smirk. "Your name's already circulating. And after that essay you wrote, I can't say I'm surprised."

"You read it?" you asked enthusiastically, lifting your brows and hitching forward.

"Cover to cover," Hux grinned, nodding. He had such a bookish look about him, what with his rust-colored sweater, vintage-looking tweed jacket, and weather-beaten leather satchel. Nearly every time you saw Hux, he had a book in tow. And how could you forget—his first love had been literature.

"Well, I'm really pleased you liked it. I'm actually on my way to meet with Kryze right now to talk about..."

Hux lifted his brows. "Your future," he finished.

You laughed sheepishly and brought a hand self-consciously across your chest to squeeze your opposite forearm, gaze slightly cast to the side. "It sounds so arrogant to say it like that. It's weird."

"It's not weird," he said, stuffing his pale hands into his pockets and looking at you as if he was dishing out some life-advice that was of paramount importance. "You worked hard, you rose to the top of your class, and now you're among the top-performing students in one of the best schools in the state. You're officially a published writer."

You laughed again, as if you were brushing off the importance of the words. You'd never been one for buttering yourself up. To say that you weren't pleased to be on top would have been a bit of a falsehood, sure. But you had a firm grasp on your belief that you weren't entitled to any of the accomplishments that you'd garnered over the past six months.

You'd _earned_ them.

"And, uh," Hux continued, his grin dropping microscopically. "I heard you have an internship at a newspaper press."

"I do," you said, nodding.

Hux hesitated for a moment, before he leaned his head in closer to you, lips hovering just above your shoulder. With no effort, and in the briefest of moments, he'd broken the strict personal barrier that you'd both agreed to assemble for the first time since you'd drawn that line six months ago.

"You should know...Ren's working at the Boston Press. If that's where your program's taking place..."

You took a step back, shaking your head incessantly, somewhat defensively. "No. No, I mean- I know. He told me before he left. But no, I'm working at a small, independently owned press. _Definitely_ not _the_ Boston Press."

"And he hasn't...bothered you at all?"

You sighed, face painted with the subtlest of solemn smiles. "Not for six months. He's gone, Hux. For the both of us. For good."

A beat of silence, and then the warning expression on Hux's face fell. He straightened his back, and all evidence of your shared tension dissipated into the brisk, late-summer air, puffing into clouds of nonexistence. "Good." He grinned, and gave you a conclusive nod. "Well then. Congratulations," he added, drawing a hand out of his pocket to gesture to you lightly. "You've earned it. You've represented the school well. We're expecting great things from you." Hux cocked an eyebrow, and with a grin, he turned and began down the sidewalk in the direction from which you'd come.

You watched him stride down to the opposite end of campus, hands still in his pockets, flaming head of hair slightly bent to the ground, locks of red whisping in the cool breeze, but your attention was yanked back to the tasks you set out to do. By the time you arrived in Kryze's office, your stomach was roiling with first-day nerves. You strained your mind to focus as she told you what kinds of marks you'd need to maintain across the board, even during your internship, to even hope to stay in the running for outstanding senior. And there was no room for forgiveness or leniency, and truthfully, no point in having the conversation at all; you'd have to maintain _spotless_ grades to secure a place in the running. There was simply no room for anything less than perfection. At least during your internship, your class load was cut back to half, but that only meant you'd have to work harder for the remainder of the year, too.

Determined that you could make it work, Kryze dismissed you, and significantly less determined in yourself, you strode out of her office not fifteen minutes after you'd walked into it—which, incidentally, served as the _former_ office of he-who-must-not-be-named. But by now, you barely thought of his fingertips at your hips whenever you stepped through the mahogany threshold of the door you'd been shoved up against more than once. You'd had so many meetings with her in the past six months, that you were almost coming to think of the room as hers.

Almost.

You shoved the thought into the crevices of your mind as you hustled back to your car. Six months. You'd gone six months without a text, a call, or any shred of evidence that he had ever been in your life at all. He might has well have been wiped from the face of the earth, and all the better for it. You'd mastered the art of repressing your own memories by now, and your newfound power made you feel move in control of yourself than ever before. Mastering your emotions hadn't been easy, but you no longer allowed yourself to think about how arduous and backbreaking the process had been. The process was _over_ now, and you were on the other side. Which meant there were no more tears—there hadn't been in _months._ So what if it had left you a little...cold? You now _existed_ \-- peacefully, a cool, controlled line, rigid and perfectly even, unbreaking, unyielding, and unbending.

But while you'd mastered your emotions, you hadn't mastered the physical bereavements that came with distressing situations. Your confidence was at an all-time high. _Nothing_ could bring you down from the pedestal you now resided upon. But you'd never been good at firsts: first dates, first days of school, first days at work. All of them left you _riddled_ with nerves. When you left campus, your stomach was in knots. But by the time you'd driven through the city, skyscrapers and scaffolding rising on either side of your vision, you felt like you'd be sick.

You cursed your own body. Because you _knew_ you were ready. You knew you were smart enough, that you worked hard enough, worked harder than _everybody else._ Months of sleepless nights, failed and discarded first drafts, and ink-stained hands had prepared for your newest, and biggest, venture as Boston's new emerging writer. You steeled yourself, taking a cooling breath as you stepped out of your car and stared up at the building of the _Bulletin._

It wasn't a metallic-made or glass-wrapped skyscraper like so many of the other structures around you. No, this building was a relic, a historical memento of old Boston—a white stone and gray brick building with columns and curves and arches. Ornate, traditional windows lined it from top to bottom, complete with iron grates at the base of each one, and opulent, marble carvings were stamped just under the roof. It felt academic, old school, and scholarly—just how you felt your soul was painted. You felt another roil of your heart, like it had turned over in your chest. But it was just nerves. Even in the midst of your fear, you felt excitement, too. And as you walked into the building, there was still a smile on your face.

You ascended the foyer to the second floor. You felt a little lost, which made you panic, but after a few moments of searching, you finally found the correct office. A glass door with a metal plate displayed that you were in the right place: _The Boston Daily Bulletin._

Your hands were clammy and trembling as you went to push the door. And then you saw the "pull" sign above the handle, hoped the receptionist didn't notice, and cursed under your breath as you swung the door open and stepped inside.

The receptionist greeted you with a bright smile. "I'm Lindi. We've been expecting you," she grinned, and stepped up from her swivel-chair and around her desk to briskly step forward and shake your hand. She was young and pretty, and from her low bun to her chino pants, looked perfectly poised to exist in a corporate setting.

"Thank you," you breathed, with your grip inside of her own, as you took it all in, suddenly feeling a little too young and too vintage for such an environment. The office was surprisingly sleek—much nicer than you expected for an independently owned press. The receptionist desk was huge, made of shiny, modern-looking wood, and bore a large, cement pot of colorfully arranged flowers. A seating area to your left sported lustrous, off-white furniture. You even noticed how polished the floor was beneath your feet; you could almost see your reflection. The entire room was dedicated to reception alone, along with the waiting area. A floor-to-ceiling glass wall separated the lobby from the rest of the office space. You'd never been in such a luxurious, modernized office before. For a second, you found yourself wondering if you were in the right place. And then you remembered that you were currently shaking hands with the receptionist, who clearly recognized, and was expecting you.

She dropped your hand only to gently guide you at your shoulder, to the archway cut out of the glass partition. "I'll lead you to conference room A. This is just a preliminary meeting," she assured you with a kind, relaxing smile. "Can I get you anything? Water? Water with lemon? A coke? Tea?"

"Uh—no, no thank you," you stammered, suddenly feeling a bit smothered by such a cheerful disposition.

Lindi arrived at a door. It was made of foggy glass. Beyond it, you could faintly make out the silhouettes of four individuals seated at a table. "Here we are. The executives just want to learn a little more about you, give you a nice little tour, go over some expectations, and of course, we'll have you fill out your paperwork. But it'll be an easy couple of hours. A _total_ breeze." She gave you another aggressively warm smile. A bit uncomfortable at the worst, truth be told, you were mostly grateful for her welcoming disposition.

At least you wouldn't be working with a bunch of high-strung dickheads.

"Are you ready?"

"Yes." You nodded, and smiled back. "Thank you."

Lindi beamed at you once more before opening the door, stepping inside to hold it open for you. She grinned as you crossed the threshold into the conference room. It was an intimidating sight—four employees on the far side of the table, staring at you as you approached.

You saw two faces then: first one, and then the other.

The first face your eyes landed upon immediately made you feel like this entire day must have been a fever dream.

It was Cora Tille.

The woman that you and Rose had briefly agreed to _stalk_ sixth months ago, before quickly abandoning the fully weird and psychotic idea. You cocked your head. For some reason, she looked nervous and tense, hands clasped tightly in her lap, jaw clenched, brows knit together. Why did she look so uncomfortable?

And then you looked to her left, and saw the second face. If seeing Cora didn't make you feel like you were hallucinating, this one certainly did.

Because Kylo Ren was staring back at you.

_"He pulled you closer, said he'll never let go_   
_You couldn't trust him but you never said no  
In that moment he made you forgot how it feels when he's gone"_

_-Emeli Sande, "Daddy"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELCOME TO PHASE TWO!!!!!!!!
> 
> I know it might feel different now that we have an added setting, but I really hope you guys still enjoy. And just a couple of things to clarify: all the companies in this story are FICTIONAL and if there are similarly named institutions, it is by complete coincidence. Okay yay!
> 
> Also, we're live on wattpad!  
> https://www.wattpad.com/story/225450509-hurt-me-harder-kylo-ren-x-reader


	30. Summer's End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He turned you into him!” She shouted.
> 
> You took a step back. Your breath kicked in your throat. For a long moment, both of you were silent. The quiet air around your bodies was heavy—too heavy. You felt as though if one of you didn’t break it, it would crush you both. “What the fuck?” You breathed.
> 
> “You think that you won, that you beat him because you’ve garnered all of this success. And I’m happy for you. I am. But you’re a shell of who you used to be! You’ve turned into a blend of all the things we hated about him. You’re withdrawn and distant and empty. You turned off your feelings altogether. You think that’s how you’ll get rid of him, but if you stay down that path, then he’ll be with you forever.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE do not hate me. I PROMISE it will get better going forward. I am SORRY for more angst. PLEASE do not come for me. Guys…there are full on SHENANIGANS coming. And I’m really fucking excited.

"Oh, absolutely fucking not," you breathed.

"What was that?" Lindi asked sweetly.

"Noth- I- oh fuck," you whispered, binder clattering to the floor in a heap. Already feeling like the breath had been kicked out of your chest, you struggled to squat down, keeping your knees squeezed tightly together given the unforgiving length of your skirt. Hastily, you closed your binder, which lay splayed and disheveled on the floor. You kept your eyes _glued_ to the carpet, hoping that when you drew them back up to the panel of individuals, two of them would be gone.

But as you stood, your eyes snapped back to his. He was still there. He was real. _This_ was, somehow, inexplicably, _real._

It was some solace to find that he looked as absolutely fucking dumbfounded as you felt.

Both you and Kylo gawked at the receptionist for an explanation. The poor woman looked lost.

Kylo cleared his throat. "Well. I'll take her resume, but I don't think it's necessary that I stay for this."

Meekly, Cora spoke without meeting his eye. "Sir, your branch _owns_ ours; we thought it would be appropriate for you to-"

"I won't be working with her directly in any way, so I don't believe I'm needed here."

Kylo stood up from the table and began walking—towards you, or the door, you weren't sure. All you knew was that he was headed straight for you, and you were panicking, and you found yourself strongly pondering jumping out the window. As he approached you, you froze. This wasn't happening. This _couldn't_ be happening. _Please, strike me down, God, I've had enough,_ you thought.

Kylo landed in front of you. Regrettably, he was just as perfect as you remembered him. His eyes swam with a familiar brown and gold, and the longer you stared at him, the more you realized you couldn't breathe. And then, nonchalantly, almost lazily, he held out his hand.

 _What the fuck?_ Your brain squealed, and surely, the confusion was plain on your face. But far too late, you understood, and scrambled through your binder to pull out a copy of your resume. He took it, quirked his brow, and you moved from the doorway. Kylo Ren exited behind you, and finally, he was gone. You could breathe.

He left a heavy silence in his wake. You took a sobering breath, and swallowed thickly.

"Was it something I said?" you muttered to yourself, forgetting you were in a room full of professionals.

But to your shock, they all began to laugh. Even Cora. Suddenly, you got the feeling that they weren't particularly big fans of Kylo Ren. At least you all had that in common. You felt yourself relax...to an extent. Not completely. Did Cora recognize you? And hadn't she guessed that you and Kylo had been _together_ when she saw you at the gala over half a year ago?

"He's a strange man," one of them said. It was one of the other two individuals, and you didn't recognize him. He was older, kindly looking, and didn't let on in any way that causing Kylo such an abrupt exit had been trouble for them. "Please, sit," he said, gesturing to a chair across from them with a welcoming smile.

You smoothed your skirt and forced a grin before slowly approaching the seat. "What, um...Why was-"

"That's Kylo Ren," Cora explained. Good God. _She didn't recognize you._ Thank fuck, honestly, but also, a little insulting? Not that her failure to recognize you would do you any favors; surely she'd remember when she saw Ren's name on your resume. "He's editor-in-chief at the Boston Press, which absorbed our branch a few years ago."

"I thought you were an independent press."

"We used to be," she said, and tapped her fingers lightly on the table. "We're a small firm, but we represent the Press. This is a highly, _highly_ competitive and coveted position. We figured he'd like to meet our new intern. We only take the best of the best, after all."

"Oh."

"Oh, no no," Cora said quickly, holding out a hand in defense, or comfort, perhaps. " _Please_ don't take it personally. He's an extremely busy man."

You felt yourself backed against a proverbial wall. If you could keep your past experience with Ren a secret, then you'd be safe from Cora recognizing you. But you couldn't. It was on your resume. And even if she didn't catch it, someone in HR, or whoever was responsible for hiring you, would mention it offhandedly at some point. You _had_ to come clean. "Actually, I...I've worked with him before. I was his TA, only for a couple months, at my university. But I barely knew him. I don't think he even remembered me," you said quickly, trying to cover for the extremely strange encounter that had just occurred under everyone's noses. "So, um, will I ever-"

"I know he can seem intimidating. He _is._ I'm sure you know that if you've worked for him before, _"_ the kindly man explained with a cheerful laugh. "But the affairs of our respective presses are almost completely separate. It's highly unlikely you'll have to work with him."

You feigned understanding, and nodded, lowering yourself into the cushy, leather chair. But you felt _anything_ but relief. Given your track record of ending up in the vicinity of Kylo Ren, "highly unlikely" just didn't feel good enough.

"Well," said the other woman—Grace-- who you recognized her from your initial video interview. "As much as I'd _love_ to hear about your experience working with the boss..." she said, grinning, and looking slightly mischievous.

"We'd better get down to business," the man agreed.

You nodded, forcing a grin, and opened your binder. You didn't _dare_ look at Cora. Now, after your admission of being Ren's TA...she _had_ to remember you. _And_ her suspicions that you two were together—or used to be. "Thank you. Should we get started?"

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

"You've got to be _fucking kidding me._ "

You sighed, pursed your tense lips, and stared irritably and blankly up at the ceiling above your living room. Rose had been pacing the lower level of your shared home, spewing her disbelief for the past fifteen minutes. If she uttered another variation of _"you've got to be kidding me"_ one more fucking time, you were going to lose it.

"And you had _no idea_ he was going to be there?" Rose sputtered as she burst back into the living room, looking at you pointedly. Almost accusatorily.

You sat up from your defeated, albeit comfortable, position—sprawled out on the couch, perfectly still, waiting for your soul to leave your body so you could _finally_ escape the inescapable burden of Kylo Ren. But now, you were upright and rigid, all of your muscles clenching, your entire expression downturned and stiff at her tone. "I hope you're not implying what I think you're implying, Rose," you answered sharply.

" _Sorry!_ I just...you said it was an independently owned press. Doesn't it seem a little bit convenient that Ren's press _owns_ yours?"

You lurched yourself to the front of your seat, leaning towards her in a stiff, flying motion, voice dripping with venom. " _It was **supposed** to be independently owned!" _you reminded her. "And it's not _convenient,"_ you spat. "It's my fucking _nightmare life!_ He's _everywhere!"_ you squealed, before flopping back down onto the couch and burying your face in your hands. Even when Ren was still at the university, actively wreaking havoc on your life, you were miserable. But perhaps you should have been more grateful that you could depend on Rose. Now, you found yourself hoping that you weren't about to lose her, too. But despite the fact that you needed her, her accusatory tone was rubbing you the wrong way.

None of this was _your fault._ You hadn't asked for Ren to come back into your life. You'd asked for the _opposite. Surely_ Rose didn't think that you'd somehow sought him out.

"I think I'm gonna go take a nap and then get ready for the party," you told her definitively, pushing yourself off the couch and heading for the staircase.

"You sure you don't want to talk about it?"

You pretended not to hear her. You knew her intentions were good, but you'd already spoken about Ren enough for one night. And this day had gotten crazy enough for your liking.

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

" _WE'RE GETTING MARRIED!"_

What. The. Fuck?

The sound of Finn and Poe's voices ringing aggressively loudly in unison was enough to stun you for a good few seconds. Then, the weight of what they'd actually said hit you like a fucking freight train. Finn was holding out a hand that bore a sleek, silver band. And for a good five seconds, you were trying to figure out what the hell you were looking at.

Could this day get any fucking weirder?

Rose broke the silence and tore you out of your daze. Bursting into tears and squealing indiscernibly, she lunged forward to pull Finn into her arms. Poe was looking at you with the happiest expression you'd ever seen him wear, waiting eagerly for your response. Hoping he couldn't tell how shocked you were, you tried to bottle your reaction away, and stepped forward to bring him into your arms.

"Oh my god," you breathed, encircling yourself around him, pulling him tightly against you. He hugged you back, strong biceps nearly crippling you under the weight of all his happiness. He trembled against you. Was he crying? You shoved the thought away, determined not to think about it or investigate further. You wouldn't have known how to handle it if he was. You pulled away and went straight for a beaming Finn, and pulled him in, too. You—all of you— were surrounded by friends, and the house was decorated a step above the levels of the usual trashy house party. Lights and streamers adorned every wall visible to the eye, and Finn and Poe had actually provided _food._ The house was just as packed as always, however, and there was certainly no lacking of alcohol.

Swarmed by guests and friends, Finn and Poe slowly began to be yanked away from you. Not wanting to navigate the awkward social situation, you peeled yourself out of the room and into the kitchen, feeling dazed, only returning when you had a cupful of whatever the hell Finn and Poe had provided.

You grinned as you leaned against the dining room wall, (and "dining room" meant a tiny room in between the kitchen and living rooms that was only big enough for two tables: one rickety kitchen table covered with solo cups, and a beer-pong table covered in dried, spilled booze) smiling as you gazed at Finn and Poe. But you felt surprisingly empty. Somehow...troubled. Unsure. Blank. And apparently, Rose saw it on your face. She walked up to you, and right off the bat, you noticed how she didn't sidle right up to your side like she usually did. No, she kept her distance, standing two feet away from you with her red cup clutched to her chest, looking at you pointedly.

"It's pretty great, right?" she asked.

"Yeah," you said, tearing your eyes away from the happy couple to give her a tight smile. "Yeah, they look really happy. That's really great."

Rose studied your face for a long moment. And after that time had passed, it seemed that she was unsatisfied with what she saw. She sighed. "Can I talk to you outside for a minute?"

You clicked your tongue. You could already feel this strange, displaced tension between you and your closest friend. And you didn't want to talk. For some reason, she'd been rubbing you the wrong way all night. And now, you were getting the impression that the feeling was mutual. _Let's get this over with,_ you thought, and gave her a face that expressed the sentiment, before following her out of the crowd and onto the abandoned porch.

The night was quiet save for the muffled cheering and hollering of the celebrators beyond the walls of the house, and save for the muted, pounding music that sounded dull and distant from where you stood with Rose. And it stayed quiet for some time. You and Rose had never had issues communicating before. There was never any beating around the bush, never an awkward silence.

So what the hell was happening here?

You shifted uncomfortably, even impatiently, and gazed at her, praising the heavens when she finally spoke.

"You don't seem like you're that happy about Finn and Poe."

Your mouth dropped open. "I _am_ happy about Finn and Poe!" you declared. "I-I'm happy _for_ them."

"But you're not happy about them getting married?"

"I'm happy they're happy," you replied curtly.

Rose sighed again, giving you a look that you could only describe as bullshit-detection. Then, she released it, and was seemingly full of patience once more. "You know...I get that it seems a little crazy. I couldn't _imagine_ getting married straight out of college. I don't think I'd ever be ready. And I think I lot of people who think they're ready and do it anyway _aren't_ really ready."

You pursed your lips, and didn't speak. You didn't need to. She was saying it all.

"But..." she began again, causing you to furrow your brow, "I think they know what they're doing. And I think they really, _really_ love each other. And if anyone can make it work, I think it's Finn and Poe."

Suddenly, you surged with jealousy and resentment. Not because of _Rose._ Not because what she was saying was wrong. Because deep down, that kind of love, that kind of security, was what you had wanted all along.

"I just think it's a little stupid. They haven't even been together that long. They're just kids."

"Yeah," Rose laughed. "I get it.

You took a large gulp from your cup before crossing your arms tightly. "I'm sorry. I just...it seems a little impulsive, that's all."

Rose was quiet for a moment before speaking. "Is there any chance that you're upset about this because you're a little...you know. Jealous?"

You set your jaw and narrowed your eyes at her. "No, actually, that's not it _at all._ All I'm saying is that they've only been dating for, like, a year. And I think this whole thing is a little crazy."

"Look...I know you wanted things to work out with Ren. But just because it didn't work for you doesn't mean it won't work for them. And it definitely doesn't mean that it won't work for you and someone else someday."

That about drew the line for you. "And I think this is a disaster in the making, and anyone with half a brain could see it coming from a mile away."

And that seemed to draw the line for Rose. She stiffened, as if a stronger stance would somehow shield Finn and Poe, who were ignorant of this conversation somewhere inside the house. "Maybe if you hadn't shut yourself up in seclusion for the past six months, you'd have seen what they're like, and how good they are together."

You stopped breathing. Your fists clenched. You could tell she was frustrated, and even though you detested what she was saying, she was still saying it with a shred calmness that you had long abandoned. "You know what, Rose? I've been _working_ for the past six months. And if you can't see that, you can go fuck yourself." You knew you were being unfair. You _knew_ it. But you were so angry: at her, at the hand you'd been dealt, but mostly, at the fact that after all the success you'd been having, _you still felt so fucking alone._

Rose shook her head incessantly. Her glossy, wet eyes were filled with desperation. But there was something else residing in her eyes, too. A whisper of aversion. An unwillingness to see things your way.

And you were unable to see hers.

"For the past six months, you've been a hollow version of yourself," she said.

"These past six months have been the most important time of my life. I've accomplished more than I ever have before! I finally got my shit together! I made a _name_ for myself."

"And at what cost?" she asked you. "You can be successful without shutting off your feelings. I can't believe that you could be so _blind_ and not see what he did to you."

"What the hell are you talking abo-"

" _He turned you into him!"_ she shouted.

You took a step back. Your breath kicked in your throat. For a long moment, both of you were silent. The quiet air around your bodies was heavy—too heavy. You felt as though if one of you didn't break it, it would crush you both. "What the fuck?" you breathed.

"You think that you won, that you _beat_ him because you've garnered all of this success. And I'm happy for you. I _am_. But you're a shell of who you used to be! You've turned into a blend of all the things we hated about him. You're withdrawn and distant and _empty._ You turned off your feelings altogether. You think that's how you'll get rid of him, but if you stay down that path, then he'll be with you forever."

You tried to take a steadying breath, but you only seethed. There was nothing. No sadness, no compassion, only anger and denial. "No one else has a problem with how I've been handling things. But you're going to tell me there's something _wrong_ with that? _Everyone else_ is happy for me, Rose! Everyone else is perfectly happy with how I've been dealing with things."

Rose scowled, crossing her arms protectively over her chest. She cast her gaze to the side, looking off Finn and Poe's porch and into the night, into the tree-line across the street, as if she could see through its impenetrable darkness. "Are you sure about that?" she muttered.

You felt your neck retract. "Excuse me?"

Her jaw set to the side, lips slightly puckered, and she lifted her brows. An unhappy, yet somehow _smug_ expression that made you clench your fists at your sides. Instantly, you thought of Finn and Poe. Was this how they thought of you, too? And they'd never so much as brought it to your attention? Was that how they _talked_ about you—huddled in seclusion when you were out of earshot, their distaste of you a blooming secret? Had all three of them been celebrating the impending engagement without you? But then again, hadn't you stopped hanging out with them so frequently?

"I know it's not easy to hear someone who cares about to tell you they've seen you change, but it isn't easy for any of us to watch it happen." Her arms were still crossed, her gaze still decidedly fixed far away from yours. Standing with only a few feet between you, you realized that you had never felt so far away from Rose.

"Well let me know when you get used to it," you spat, tearing back into the house, grabbing your purse, and leaving without so much as a goodbye to the happy couple.

You were halfway down the street when you realized that you fucked up. When you realized that Rose, of all people, the sweetest and kindest friend you'd ever known, didn't deserve to have anybody yell at her like that. Certainly not a best friend. But it was too late, wasn't it? You'd ruined all hope of redemption by storming out on her. And it was too late to go back.


	31. You're The Only One I'd Do This For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You gathered your bag as Grace all but shoved you out of your cubicle. And the weight of the situation settled heavily on your shoulders: there was a staffing shortage at the Press. And you, as the intern, were the replacement. 
> 
> You were going to work in Ren’s office.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my goal with this one was to make your toes curl.

Two weeks passed without incident. For that, you should have been grateful. Two weeks ago, you'd had a run in with Kylo Ren—but perhaps he wasn't back in your life, per se. That possibility alone should have been enough to keep you going. But one day passed at a time, each one blending unceremoniously into the next. You sat through pitch meetings, proofread article after article, went back to your house where you and Rose were both perfectly silent, pretending the other didn't exist, and stayed locked up in your room into the early hours of the morning, trying to stay on top of all the homework that was piling up. And all the while, you felt more alone than ever.

And then it hit you: with a pencil in your mouth one night, you were sprawled on your bedroom floor with books and papers scattered around your body, your open laptop sitting directly in front of you. Your hair was disheveled and your eyes heavy, and as you desperately searched for contributing passages regarding the patriarchy in Shakespeare's era, the truth came over you, bathed you, upended you, and nearly threw you flat on your back.

Rose was _right._

Because you were miserable. You were _lonely_. You were working on your thesis, and you were at the top of your class, but none of it felt worth it anymore. Because if you had kept yourself emotionally intact after everything that happened with Kylo, you wouldn't be off speaking terms with your closest friends, and you'd actually be able to enjoy all the good things that were happening in your life.

The pencil dropped from your mouth and you leaned back, arms resting on your knees. You shut your laptop with your foot and stared silently at the beige wall in front of you. Kylo might have left you. But he didn't turn you into himself. He didn't force you to forego your own feelings.

You'd chosen to do that yourself. Because you were _terrified_ of how badly it would hurt if you let yourself feel again.

Sometimes when you ran into Rose at home, she looked almost like she wanted to speak to you. But you could hardly meet her eye. Surely, she thought you were still angry with her, and honestly, maybe you were trying to convince yourself of that, too. But in reality, you were so ashamed with the way you'd spoken to her that it hurt too bad to see her face grapple with your shattered friendship.

But what was there to do now? You wanted to rectify everything with Rose. You wanted her back in your life. But how could you open up the floodgates to a problem with which you'd never fully coped? What if Rose never forgave you?

And most terrifyingly of all, what if it was too late?

The next morning at the office was a rough one. The back of your head housed a dull and persistent ache, compliment of your severe lack of sleep form the night before. Every time you passed a reflective surface, you winced at the sight of the gray circles underneath your eyes. You looked sunken and exhausted.

And you looked empty.

But at least you'd had two weeks of uneventful stagnation. Because after Grace approached you with your new assignment, you'd give _anything_ for some good old deep dissatisfaction instead of what you had on your plate _now._

"I'm really sorry," she told you, "but the receptionist at the Press had her baby, like, _weeks_ early. And her replacement isn't ready to take over yet."

"Oh," you muttered, your brain rapidly spinning ideas that might get you out of having to go work in Ren's office. Shouldn't temps replacing employees on maternity leave be prepped for this kind of thing? Wasn't that sort of...the whole point? Had one person been ill-prepared for only you to pay the price? "It's just...I've never done reception before. I'm not really sure I'll know how to work the phone lines..."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Grace said, practically ushering you to your feet. "Lindi will show you before you go."

You gathered your bag as Grace all but shoved you out of your cubicle. And the weight of the situation settled heavily on your shoulders: there was a staffing shortage at the Press. And _you,_ as the intern, were the replacement.

You were going to work in Ren's office.

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

You worked at the reception desk with your back nearly hunched over and your head down, your muscles virtually stuck in place for fear of turning around to see Ren behind you. You could hardly focus, stammering whenever you answered a phone call, in-part because you still weren't sure how to use the phone lines and they were incredibly stressful, but also because you were so sickeningly nervous. The moment you'd stepped through the office doors, you'd developed an intense, deep shiver that didn't leave you until mid-afternoon. But with each hour that stretched on, you realized that he wasn't coming. You were pretty sure he wasn't even here. People bustled about for lunch, walked through reception to use the restrooms in the hallway, or exited the office altogether for a snack or coffee run.

And Ren was nowhere to be seen.

By four-o-clock, you realized that with any luck, he wouldn't come back to the office at all that day. You thought about asking one of the other employees if they knew if he was coming back, but for one thing, you knew you wouldn't be able to pass as nonchalant. For the other, the people here were...different.

Everyone at the Press was remarkably uptight. Even the office itself exuded an ambiance of severe pretentiousness and coldness. The Bulletin was very nice, even almost luxurious, but somehow managed to uphold some semblance of warmth. Perhaps that was because of the people who worked there. But the Press was furnished more to look like a futuristic spaceship, and no one who passed you paused to greet or welcome you, or to thank you for covering the phones so they'd no longer have to do it themselves.

Five o'clock came around, and people began to file out. But you weren't so lucky to be leaving early. Apparently, the receptionists had to stay up to an hour late every single day for no good reason. You grimaced down at your desk, but at least there was extra money involved.

Honestly, you weren't sure _when_ you'd be able to leave. You only finished your reception duties just past five, and you still had two articles to proof before tomorrow.

You opened up the document on your computer. The lights in the office behind you had gone out. You were alone, but you could finally get some of your _real_ work done. You typed away for some time, slipping in your earbuds once you were confident the place was truly closed for the night, and spent the better part of an hour revising and redlining. You felt significantly more relaxed now, and motivated once again. You'd finished your rounds of proofing within an hour and a half, and two articles sat completed before you.

All there was to do now was walk the office and make sure all the lights were out.

So you stood from your desk and began to walk.

The Press's office was uniquely structured. The entire floorspace formed a large rectangle, the outer-lobby and elevators existing in the middle of it all. The offices were situated along the far walls, against the windows. Cubicles for lower-ranking editors and clerical workers were spaced all along the floors outside the closed rooms.

Walking around the entire office took a good couple of minutes. You poked your head through all the doors, flicking off any lights that had been left on. And then finally, you rounded back near reception. And you came to the last door.

Kylo Ren's nameplate was perfectly polished, its deep, brass color somehow imposing in itself. You could just skip this office, you told yourself. Make the excuse that he'd been gone all day. Or that if he was there, and he was working late, you didn't want to bother him.

You took a step back, and crossed to the coat closet to retrieve your jacket. The fabric rustled beneath your fingers. The door echoed loudly as you shut it. You registered your mistake too late. And Ren's door opened before you could make a beeline for the exit.

Your heart skipped, leaping to your throat and cutting off your air supply. He stood in his doorway, and you stood in front of him, frozen in place, horrified, and inexplicably embarrassed.

You gawked at him _._ You'd genuinely thought he'd been out for the day, or at the very least that you wouldn't see him. He hadn't come out even _once._ So, he'd just been lurking in his office directly behind you for the past five hours? You'd been no more than five yards apart this entire time? The realization hit you so hard that you actually _shuddered._ He drank in your body with his eyes as you did. You tried to ignore how they darkened.

You dropped your jacket, and took one weak step backward. And then you turned, and you were speeding down the hall. You weren't sure where you were going. You weren't sure what you needed, or what you wanted. But you knew you couldn't stand there just _staring_ at him. You just needed to _move._

But he was on your heels. You ducked into the pantry, a small copier room with nothing but a printer, a counter that held the sink and fax machine, a mini fridge, and water cooler. Ren ducked in right behind you, shutting the door after he'd crossed the threshold. This was slightly better. At least if you were going to talk, you were somewhat isolated now, even if the entire building was empty with the exception of you and him; sometimes it just felt better to be behind closed doors.

He stood a foot in front of the door. You stood facing him as far against the other wall as you could without bumping into the copier. It only left a few feet in between you. His eyes were dark and narrowed. His jaw was set. Nothing about him indicated that he was nervous or emotional in anyway—nothing except the way his chest seemed to heave, only slightly, as he drew in breath. You stared back at him. It was silent for some time. Nothing was said, no noise made, save for the sound of your labored, heated breathing. It was quiet on the surface, but the air was thick, _riddled_ with everything that had been left unsaid. And it was enough to fill the entire fucking room.

You lost yourself then. It was as if you blacked out. You didn't remember lunging for him, your arm bending at the elbow to shove against his massive frame, forearm pushing against his clavicle and barring him against the door. But when you came to, you were there, your face mere inches from his.

Something inside of you snapped. You felt your lower lip begin to tremble, but it wasn't sadness...not anymore. For six months, you'd mourned him, _wept_ over this cruel man. You'd cried until you'd forced yourself to stop crying altogether, to forego tears and weakness, until there was nothing left inside you but a roiling, sickening hatred. For six months, you'd existed as a perfectly composed, bottled-up version of your former self—all of your memories and pain repressed or rejected or denied. It had left you cold and empty—exactly how you remembered Kylo. And now...now, you were left empty and barren save for the rage that was now eating you alive.

And now, the memories and pain came flooding out of you in towering waves.

His hands, gripping your waist. His veined, muscled arm encircling your body protectively as you slept. The distant, unrecognizable look in his eye when he told you he would never love you. The venom in his voice when he called you naïve.

A strange ringing sounded echoed in your ears, so sharp and deafening that it clouded your senses with fury. Hot puffs of air steamed from your nose, gusting against the small space between you and Kylo before drifting away.

Kylo's eyes had gone wide with bewilderment. Rigid and stiff, he stared at you, speechless, the breath having been knocked out of his lungs. You stared back, feeling your face twist into a fierce grimace. You gave him another shove for good measure, and his back rattled against the door. You scowled your lips, and it drew a soft, low grunt from Kylo's lungs.

"How _fucking_ dare you," you spat hotly, balling your hand into a fist at the side of his jaw. You brought you free hand to brace your wrist, holding him firmly in place. "You've got a lot of fucking nerve, you know that? Who the _fuck_ do you think you are, slithering back into my life like this? You have _no fucking right!"_ you growled, arm digging deeper against the base of his throat.

"I didn't-" he tried, but it only served to make you angrier. 

"You just stay the fuck away from me and let me do my job. I _deserve_ to be here, you pathetic _asshole_ ," you growled through gritted teeth, narrowing your eyes as Kylo's lips parted. He panted, staring down at you. Even as he towered above you, he looked trapped. Entranced. You furrowed your brow, taking a step further to continue your interrogation. That was when your hips brushed against his crotch, and you felt an unmistakable hardness press against you in response.

Your jaw dropped open. Your eyes flickered down, only half believing what they were seeing. You gawked at the distinctive beginnings of a tent in Kylo's dress pants. A single exhale kicked out of your lungs—an incredulous, disbelieving laugh.

"Unbe-fucking-lievable," you whispered, drawing your gaze back up to meet Kylo's. His eyes were hooded, staring at the place where your hips met, eyeing his rigid crotch that brushed against your hipbone. His jaw hung slack in something akin to pleasure, but shock, too. "You- you're..." you stammered, unable to find the words.

Your free hand lifted to the side of his face, and in the same instant, Kylo's eyes darted to meet your own. You held each other's gaze, an unforeseen, invisible bond stripping you bare and forcing you together. Everything else around you disappeared. It was just you...and him.

You stopped your hand mid-air before you could make contact with his skin.

You couldn't hit him. As much as you wanted to, you _couldn't._ One moment of delicious satisfaction wasn't worth hurting another human being, no matter how terrible; you would never forgive yourself.

"You called me naïve. _Weak,"_ you spat. Your voice was riddled with disgust.

Kylo's eyes darted to the side to the clenched fist that trembled in the corner of his vision, inches from his cheek. Chest heaving with exhilarated breaths, he finally spoke, chin jerking to your first. "Do it, then" he breathed, taking in your gaze once more and drinking it down. You shook your head in disbelief, the scowl on your lips never wavering. " _Do it!"_ he hissed again, but the commanding tone of voice that you remembered so well wasn't there. It was replaced with something else, now. Something closer to desperation.

You shook your head, fist still trembling, _itching_ to hurt him like he'd hurt you.

"No." Your voice trembled. Every muscle within you trembled, too. Your blood was vibrating from inside the walls of your veins. "I'm not like you."

"Aren't you?" Ren lifted his brow. His soft lips parted. His tongue snatched forward to wet them. And from there, from that moment on, you knew you were gone, a lost cause, descending into the trap of bad habits and past mistakes.

Your chest heaved with fire and rage. He could see it inside of you, you realized. Rose saw it, and he saw it too. You were someone else entirely.

Finally, a flicker of your old softness, your old vulnerability, flashed on your face. You felt it. For months, you'd been a young woman who rejected any and all emotion. Now, in the blink of an eye, you felt like you were standing where you'd stood the moment before he kissed you for the first time—blown with lust and thirsty for adventure, and Ren saw it too. And he took the opportunity.

His lips crashed into yours, and the result was something akin to an eruption. Lips...lips that were soft and hot, but the motion was violent, like he was _starving._ You were starving too, you realized, and didn't even give question to the possibility of resisting. Ren turned you, shoving you against the counter.

Then, she was gone—the young woman who'd developed a violent crush on her professor a year ago. And you were back. You shoved him away but kept your clutches around the collar of his dress shirt. Your eyes were dark. "I'll show you weak," you spat, giving him another good shove so he was turned around, taking your place pinned against the counter.

You gripped his tie with one hand and gripped his jaw with the other, nails biting into his skin. He groaned slowly as you slipped your tongue forcefully into his mouth. He steadied his hands on the counter, knocking over papers and supplies. You pinned him in place with your hips against his, and the demand within his pants was growing evermore urgent. You didn't ignore it; in fact, you brushed against it with your own hips over and over again, just barely, kissing him fiercely until he was moaning into your mouth. Until he was in pure _agony._

His hands darted for his belt buckle. You snickered, and smacked them away with one hand, the other tightening around his jaw. Your nails dug deeper into his skin. If he had welts tomorrow, then all the better. You smirked at him, pulling your lips off of his but holding his head in place with a commanding hand (and very sharp nails.) You smirked at him. He looked back with pleading eyes. You didn't feel sorry for him in the slightest.

As if on cue, his cock twitched. You smirked, your eyes flickering downwards. You widened your eyes and cocked a brow. "Who's weak now?" you whispered, before ducking your head down to lick a hot stripe up the side of his neck.

"You can tell me I'm fragile, Ren, and you can tell me that I can't resist you," you simpered, drawing away to look him dead in the eye. You released his jaw, letting your hand slowly slide down his neck, his collarbone, until it rested on his chest. Tight fingers curled around his tie. Your fist was strong against his sternum. "But you and I both know that you have needs that can't be silenced. You're _desperate._ And you need _me._ You don't want to, but I'm in your mind, in your dreams, _under your fucking skin_ ," you whispered, throwing his own words back at him from a long, long time ago. You'd never forgotten them. You raised a finger to swipe down his chin. "Tearing you apart," you whispered against his lips.

Now, it was Ren's turn to shudder. And he trembled beneath you, trembled with desire, trembled with sheer astonishment. And it filled you with a feeling you didn't even recognize.

You captured his lips with your own, and he melted against you, sliding his tongue within your mouth, swallowing you down, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He kissed you hungrily, desperately, and he moaned, in pleasure, or maybe discomfort. You hoped that his cock was positively _aching._

You hummed against his lips, and pulled back. You took a step backwards, giving his tie a sharp yank. He stumbled forward and you carelessly let him go, positioning yourself in front of the counter, lifting yourself up onto it, legs accentuated by your black stilettos.

Your eyes held his while you began to unbutton your shirt. You grinned when he parted his lips and swallowed thickly. "I've had enough of doing whatever you want me to do. Now, we're going to talk about what _I_ want to do." Your blouse hung open, and you rolled it back over your shoulders, caught it in your slender fingers, and dropped it to the floor, all without releasing his gaze.

"Come take my skirt off," you instructed. His brows knit together. You cocked yours, and all semblance of argument vanished from his face. "And don't fucking touch yourself," you spat. The hand that had drifted to rub his cock through his pants quickly withdrew, and he held it at his side instead, clenching it into a fist.

Pleased, you smiled, and slowly, Ren stepped forward to stand directly in front of you. His hands trembled as he placed them on your hips. You lifted yourself so he could pull down your pencil skirt. "And leave the shoes," you told him. Slowly, he began to drag it down your legs. Carefully, he made sure that it didn't knock off your heels. His tongue darted out to wet his lips.

"Knees," you ordered. He obeyed without a word, dropping to his knees as he released your skirt to the floor. Never once did his eyes leave yours. He stared up at you, expectant and attentive. You weren't sure you'd ever seen him wear that expression before. But he took you in hungrily, you: in nothing but a black bra, a black thong, and black stilettos.

Your eyes darted down, almost irritably, as if the next instruction was perfectly clear. His eyes followed to your pussy, and he swallowed deeply.

Trembling hands rose to rest on your thigh. He closed his eyes, like he was savoring the touch. It had been so long since he'd felt any part of you. Slowly, his hands slid inwards, towards your core, and you held your breath. One finger hooked into your panties, and pulled them to the side, exposing you before him.

The walls of your core were so weak, and you felt yourself grow immensely wet, shamefully slickening underneath his commanding touch. And for a brief moment, all you could think about was how embarrassing it would have been if you drenched the counter beneath you, what he would think of you. But you banished the thought almost as quickly as it entered your mind. There wouldn't be any more of that—no more concerning yourself with what he thought of you. No more praying you wouldn't do or say the wrong thing to uphold his happiness or desires. Those days were long gone, and the time for prioritizing his pleasure was behind you. This wasn't about him and what he wanted anymore. This was about _you_.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he dipped his head between your thighs. He placed on wet kiss to your clit, and you bit back a moan, your back straightening, fists clenching. He pulled away only for a moment, and then sank back against you, licked rapidly, tongue flickering against your nub. He groaned softly, and the vibrations only sent you further and further towards ecstasy. But you kept a level head, even though you were beginning to sweat.

His fingers dug into your thighs. He kissed your pussy, tongue somehow both sloppy and immaculately precise. He truly knew what he was doing, and now you were reaping the reward. You hummed, arching your back as you sank into the pleasure, toes curling within your stilettos. A hand sank to his hair and tugged. Harder than necessary. He inhaled sharply in response to the pain, but it only made him tongue-fuck you harder.

"Up," you ordered, giving his hair another aggressive tug. You weren't ready to cum yet. You had _perfectly good_ control over yourself. He, on the other hand, was falling apart before your very eyes.

He stood level with you again. His lips and chin were wet and glistening, the product of vigorous work and desire. You smirked and tugged him forward by the tie, capturing his lips and tasting him, tasting your own sex, reveling in his inability to speak. After a deep, sensual kiss, you finally pulled away. You lowered your hand to hover a hairsbreadth from his crotch. His eyes fluttered shut, and he moaned.

"You want to fuck me?" 

His dark, golden eyes opened, boring into yours. "Yes," he told you, jaw tense.

"And why should I let you? You say I can't resist you, but you're the one coming apart."

"Because- I- _fuck,"_ he breathed, closing his eyes again and shuddering. You swiped up his erection with a single finger. He dipped his head back and moaned.

You smirked. "It hurts, doesn't it?" you asked, eyes flickering down noncommittedly towards his cock.

Stiffly, he managed a nod.

You feigned a pout. "Then I guess you should probably admit that you need it."

Kylo stiffened. He didn't look at you. And then, finally, he gave you a curt, resounding, "No." It was practically the most he'd said all night.

You sighed. "Okay then." And hopping off the counter, you reached down to collect your garments, ass high in the air. This was hardly lost on Kylo, who immediately jolted forward to pin you against the counter once more.

This time, you _did_ bring your hand up, and smacked him directly across the cheek. His head whipped to the side, and the expression that had been dark and decisive a moment ago had flickered like a light switch; it was now stunned, eyes wide and unbelieving. He brought a hand to his cheek. Like he couldn't believe what you'd just done.

And you couldn't either. You froze, and opened your mouth to apologize. But thankfully, before you could, Kylo slowly turned his head to look at you.

"Yes," he stammered, voice faltering. "Yes, I need to fuck you. Please."

Oh- _oh._ You knew from experience, of course, that he liked to slap _you_ during sex. But it wasn't ever really _that_ hard or aggressive, and a part of you had thought that it just occurred from the heat of the moment. But this... _this..._ he liked it. He liked the pain. He liked... _being hurt._

And he liked that _you hurt him_.

You swallowed both your spit and your surprise, and lifted yourself back up onto the counter, lifting your chin. He waited for you to motion him to approach, but when you finally did, he lunged to you, taking you in his arms in the blink of an eye, wrapping himself around you and capturing you with a smoldering, desperate kiss. Your tongues slid and fought, and your hands darted to grip his beltloops, yanking him closer to you. Now, he dripped and ached and finally, _finally,_ you were ready to let him give you what you wanted.

You didn't remove his clothes. That way, he still had his tie, and could use it to control him. You began working on his belt, unbuckling it, and stroking his cock slowly through his underwear.

His lips shuddered against yours. "Are you going to give me what I want?" you whispered against his mouth.

"I-"

"Not fast enough," you said, hand moving to his hair. You gave it a sharp yank downwards and his head fell back, throat exposed to the ceiling. He gasped and sputtered. This was a new side of him, and you were liking it more and more with every weak, stammering noise that tumbled from his throat. "The answer should be a resounding 'yes.'"

" _Yes,"_ he growled, quickly this time.

You smirked. "Good," you said, and finally pulled his length free.

His breath hitched the minute you took him in your palm, and you could see why. He was stiff and red and rigid and unbelievably hard. He dripped sloppily with precum, and it dribbled down to the floor. God, you'd have loved to taste it, but there was no way in hell you were working for _anything._ Not tonight. Not for him. You stroked him lazily, only to torture him even more; you knew he wanted it hard and fast, and you made it painfully gradual. "You're going to fuck this pussy because I'm going to _let_ you. You don't deserve me. You don't even _compare_ to me. You're sad and pathetic and desperate, and if you don't make me cum, then I'll make _sure as hell_ I leave you a dribbling, ruined mess," you purred against his lips. He groaned the words. "So," you whispered. "Do you think you can make me cum?

Shakily, he nodded, forehead nearly touching yours. You ducked your face away from his without breaking eye contact. You lifted your brows in challenge.

"Then fucking prove it," you spat.

Kylo could not have possibly wasted less time if his life fucking depended on it. He plunged into you with an urgency you didn't recognize, his mouth falling open as he sheathed himself inside of you. Gasping, you clutched his dress-shirt at the biceps. For a second, your vision flashed with hot whiteness. He groaned shakily, sinking his hips against yours before drawing himself back out to plunge into you again.

You pressed your lips tightly together, biting back a moan as pathetic as his. But the pleasure in your core was undeniable. You hadn't felt relief like this in _six months._ It was as if you'd been hungry, _starving,_ for all this time, and now you were finally being filled.

You reached back to remove your bra, and you let it fall to the floor. Then, you moved your hands to your breasts, rolling and pinching your nipples between your fingers, feeling the softy, fatty skin, rolling them in your palms, pressing them up and squeezing them.

Kylo eyed them hungrily as his hips rolled against you, and his head dipped downwards to catch one in between his lips. But you shoved him off. "Your only job is to fuck me," you told him, breath hitching despite yourself. "I don't need you for anything else. You're _useless_ to me, do you understand? You're _useless_."

His pupils seemed to blow at your words, and his hips began to snap with more urgency. More moans tumbled from his lips, and sent shockwaves and shivers between your legs as he cleaved you open in the copier room of your shared workplace. You flushed, face blooming with heat and excitement. Your fingers tingled, and chest felt so full that you feared it would burst. God it was dangerous.

Just like the old days.

The repetitive sound of his hips slapping forcefully against yours bloomed warmth through your pussy and it radiated outward, crawling up your blood and fogging your skin. Your breath was becoming less and less easy to control with every fierce thrust, and evidently, Kylo's control was slipping through his fingers. He grunted as he slammed into you, lips searching for yours, but you kept him at bay with the hand you returned to wrap around his tie, holding him in place at the chest. Your jaw dropped open and you moaned obscenely, and the sound nearly drew him to shambles; he collapsed his head into the crook of your neck, whimpers and moans muffled against your skin. You felt the wetness from his lips stain your throat, and hummed at the sensation, walls clenching around his rapidly working cock.

He grunted and the sound broke, and you knew he was struggling, staving off his release. You felt warm and relaxed with pleasure mounting in your belly. You rocked your hips as best you could on the counter, clenching his tie in your hand.

 _"Mmm. More,"_ you breathed, eyes lowering to land in his gaze. He held it like it was a tender thing, but you didn't want any tenderness from him. Not anymore. Your hand moved to grasp his jaw again, and you tilted your face close to his. "Don't be weak. Fuck me like you mean it," you spat, and threw his face to the side. He gripped at your sides to keep his balance, and gave you a particularly brutal thrust that sent you scooting backwards on the counter. His hands flew to your hips, wrenching you forward to meet flush with his body.

"Good," you gasped, snaking a hand through his hair and tugging slowly on the strands. He wrenched his face in pain as you grasped him tighter with each passing second. The pace of his hips didn't relent. " _So good,"_ you breathed. His jaw fell open, and he exhaled shakily.

" _Fuck,"_ he breathed. "God, you're- _fuck,"_ was all he could manage. His head dropped downward, and all of his focus was ingrained on his cock, and the pussy he was pounding it into.

You felt your walls loosen and flutter. He was drawing you close. His brutal pace, the sound of his staggering breath. The absence of control in his movements.

The effortless way he fucking _bent_ to your will.

God, where had _this_ side of Kylo been your whole life?

" _Yes,"_ you breathed, the heat becoming nearly too much to bear. Your legs clenched around his waist, pinning him against you. "Yes. Fucking make me cum," you ordered.

Kylo breathed shakily and slammed into you with abandon. His cock stretched your slick walls. You clutched the collars of his shirt. And then that gave you another idea. You dipped your head forward, draping his neck in kisses and leaving muted, pink lipstick stains in your wake, each one a shameful smudge on his expensive shirt. You nipped his neck until your body began to clench. Your vision went white, heat creeping up your neck, encompassing your face, steaming you with thick pleasure.

You arched your back as pleasure seized your body, wrenching you upright, face to the ceiling as you exhaled your pleasure, a guttural cry tearing in ripples from your throat and filling the room. Each thrust plunged you deeper and deeper into ecstasy until the peak of it all left your vision black and littered with stars. 

You groaned, throat raw as finally, you collapsed against him, clutching onto his red-stained shirt as he fucked you through the aftershocks. But as you grew more relaxed and limp, Kylo was descending further and further into uncontrolled madness, snapping his hips, obscenities falling from his lips.

His hips stuttered, his jaw fell open. And you knew without a doubt that he was riding his pleasure on the very brink of his release.

"No," you told him, shoving him off, and effectively, out of you. He growled in protest. "Jerk yourself off like the pathetic scum you are. Cum on the fucking floor."

Kylo stared back at you incredulously, cock in hand, jaw dropped to the ground. He moaned, gritting his teeth in frustration, but he was too close to pleasure to stop. His hand moved rapidly up and down his shaft, drenched and glistening with what looked like _buckets_ of precum. He chased his pleasure as if it was the only thing keeping him alive. He eyed you hungrily; he no longer had your touch to drive him through his pleasure. He drank you in: your flushed face, your bare frame, your exposed cunt, wet and gleaming. And with his free hand bracing himself on the counter just next to your hip, he finally released himself, sputtering through his orgasm that sent trembles through his body, cum spurting in between your parted legs to land sadly on the linoleum floor beneath his feet.

You grinned in the wake of your triumph and pleasure, body still shaking with aftershocks. And Kylo looked back at you with complete shock and surprise; shoulders trembling as he held his tired cock in hand without speaking a word.

You smirked and lifted your leg, a stiletto-clad foot landing on his shoulder, pushing downwards. You cocked your brow at him until he got the memo, and you guided him to his knees. With one forceful clench of your leg, he fell forward, and caught himself on his hands. His face was feet away from his own cum on the floor.

"Shirt," you told him. "And skirt."

Kylo lowered his gaze, as if embarrassed. Embarrassed that he was doing your bidding, or that you'd discovered something extremely personal about his sexual preferences, you weren't sure. Likely both. But he didn't argue. He didn't even look at you as he picked up each and every one of your garments and handed them up to you like he was a servant and you were a queen, and the queen didn't bid scum to look upon her. You dressed into your bra and blouse, taking your time doing up the buttons. Then, you lifted yourself off the counter and pulled your skirt back up.

You knelt down in front of Kylo, mindful of the cum. Took his jaw in your hands. You gave him a good, hard look. His face was flushed, eyes averting your gaze, collar rumpled open and stained with your lipstick, hair disheveled from your ungentle fingers, cheek red from the force of your palm.

"Do you have a woman to go home to tonight?" you asked him.

He lowered his gaze further to the ground. And he didn't speak.

You smirked. "Good luck explaining this to her," you said, patting his cheek a little more roughly than necessary, and then you stood. "And clean the floor," you told him, before putting your hand on the doorknob and taking your leave.

The cool, night air was calming and cooling. Your legs trembled as you walked yourself to your car. Each stretch of distance you put between you and Kylo, however, proved to strip away your clarity. In the car-ride home, your mind became more and more clouded with uncertainly.

You were astronomically proud of yourself. But...surprised at yourself, too, and frankly, and little afraid. Who the _hell_ was that woman in there who had possessed your body and mind? It was _amazing,_ but you didn't recognize her. Were you too aggressive? Had you made a mistake?

 _Did_ he have a woman at home?

Doubts crept in, until in one, resounding moment, understanding hit you so hard that you nearly slammed on your breaks on accident.

Ren didn't have to want you. That much, you'd come to understand was fair. But there was something else you were beginning to understand, too. He couldn't have it both ways. He couldn't force you, _demand_ that you remain in parts of his life and not the others. Not like this. Not anymore.

And you knew exactly what you needed to do.

The daze began to lift as you stepped out of your car, and you parked it directly in front of your home. But you didn't go inside. Instead, you continued down the block, heart battering in your chest as you grappled with the knowledge of what was next. And then, within moments, you'd come to Finn and Poe's house. Where you _knew_ Rose would be, because ever since your fight, she was barely spending time at home.

You could hardly blame her.

You felt strange as you lifted your fist to knock. Still felt a slight undulation of turbulence inside of yourself. But finally, you were free of uncertainty. You felt like you were seeing things clearly for the first time in long before you met Ren.

Finn opened the door. Poe and Rose were seated on the couch against the adjacent wall. All three of them looked confused to see you, and not particularly happy. Again, it was hard to blame any of them.

But Rose was the first to stand. The confusion on her faze fizzled away, leaving a soft bewilderment in its wake. Finn took a step aside, and Rose must have read the look on _your_ face and understood, probably could have made out the rising tears in your eyes from across the room. Finn was completely out of the way when Rose finally stepped in front of you, leaving just a hairsbreadth moment of hesitation before finally releasing a shaky exhale, wrapping her arms around you in relief.

You returned it, sinking against her body, nuzzling your face against her neck and squeezing her so tightly it would have put one of Poe's famous bone-crushing embraces to shame. And now, more than ever, you knew that she'd been right all along. You were starved for touch, but not just in a romantic way. You'd shut yourself up for months, even from your friends, _especially_ from your friends. And now, you were back, and for the first time in those long, arduous months, you didn't feel so lonely anymore. You could feel the sickly, destitute feeling finally begin to dissipate.

You broke the embrace after you and Rose both had had the chance to have a good few sobs. And when you pulled away, you both laughed awkwardly, wiping your eyes. And you knew that everything was back as it should be.

You stood back, now addressing Finn and Poe, who looked surprised, but relieved. And very, _very_ confused to see you in an emotionally vulnerable state. They'd probably forgotten what that looked like on you.

"I'm really sorry I haven't been there for you guys," you told them. "I'm sorry that I haven't been a good friend the past few months. And I'm really sorry that I didn't really celebrate your engagement with you. The truth is, I was maybe a little jealous, and have a lot going on. And that's _not_ an excuse to treat my friends like shit, especially when you guys have always been there for me at a moment's notice," you said, laughing bitterly, but trying not to hate yourself for the sake of everything you wanted to help repair. "And I don't want to make this all about me. I know that you guys are still trying to celebrate. And I don't want to make it seem like I don't care about that. It's just that...I feel like I owe it to you to help you understand what happened. If you'll let me explain."

Finn and Poe, still looking stunned, exchanged glances at each other, before nonverbally deciding, and confirmed their decision outwardly with a shared expression that read, _of course we'll listen._

You sighed shakily, but grateful, steadied yourself by looking at Rose. She was looking back at you with a slightly manic expression that read, _what the hell are you doing?_ But you looked at her long and hard. And she must have read it in your eyes as you tried to wordlessly project, _it's okay, it's okay,_ because her expression softened, and you both nodded at each other.

All three of them were looking at you. All three of your closest, most cherished friends. You watched their concerned but attentive, selflessly compassionate faces, and you knew that this was the way it needed to be all along.

"Maybe we should all sit down," you told Finn and Poe. "I've got something to tell you."


	32. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, you made the call to interject. “Look. I appreciate you guys and all the support you’ve given me, even when I haven’t been a very good friend. But I’m only telling you all of this because I think I owe you the truth. This is something I need to do on my own. I’ve been enough trouble as it is.”
> 
> Poe lowered his hand. Finn turned to you and cocked his head to the side. Rose…well, Rose’s expression was rather blank, but in a way, it spoke volumes nonetheless.
> 
> “Didn’t you just say that you never should have kept this from your friends in the first place? You can’t expect us to sit around and let you handle this on your own now,” Poe told you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all! Just a reminder that this story is now on wattpad! My @ is still trisswrites, so feel free to bop on by and drop me a message. I love hearing from you guys so much. And thank you so much for 1700+ kudos. I cannot fucking believe it. I never, ever expected this response, and I’m so grateful to each and every one of you! Please enjoy the following shenanigans.

Finn and Poe were silent for a long time after you finished talking. Rose was too, but somehow in a completely different way. While she sat there with her hands in her lap, twiddling her thumbs with the guilt of knowledge, the other two were gaping at you openly, as if trying to decide whether or not you were playing some sort of sick, practical joke on them. The longer they looked at you, the more you felt like you were shrinking, and the more you wanted to melt into the cracks of the couch cushions beneath you. In your mind briefly flickered the image of Horace Slughorn from the sixth _Harry Potter,_ and in that moment, you too wished you could transform into a piece of furniture to flee from your accountabilities, nondescript and guiltless. And unable to be attacked by your friends.

You were exceptionally grateful when Poe finally licked his lips and leaned forward in his seat: the telltale sign that he was about to say something as soon as he was done grappling with his thoughts. Even if he told you he thought you were disgusting and insane, at least this awful silence would finally be lifted.

"So...let me get this straight," he said. You relaxed a little, grateful for the chance to explain yourself. Hearing his voice felt like shackles being lifted from your wrists. You weren't sure if after all the secrets, he'd ever want to say another word to you again. "You've been...sleeping with your professor-"

"With Kylo Ren-"

"Thank you, Finn, with _KYLO!.............._ Ren."

You winced at the sudden raise of Poe's voice, but he'd seemed to simmer down in the same second he'd lost control. You fidgeted nervously.

"And _you?_ You knew about this?" he said, both his voice and his body sharp as he turned to Rose.

For a split second, she looked like a deer caught in the headlights, but then she just shrugged, raising her arms in question. "I...I mean, look, I know it's kind of problematic, but honestly, it wasn't any of your business and they're both consenting adults, so-"

He held up his hand, and then pinched the bridge of his nose. He looked weary. "And how long has this been going on?"

"It's not going on anymore!" you answered a bit too quickly. You stopped, and reflected. "Okay it _wasn't_ going on for a very long time, until uh, today, when I-"

"When you got absolutely railed in the workplace, yeah-"

"Well, actually _I_ was the one who-"

" _Is divulging the details really necessary?"_

"Nope, not important," you said quickly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and dropping your gaze. "So...since end of fall term last year," you answered in a quiet voice.

Poe sighed again, and leaned back in his chair. His eyes were positively scorching you. "And I assume I don't need to tell you why that was insane and irresponsible?"

"I've pretty much figured that out for myself, thanks, _dad,"_ you swiped, voice suddenly full of venom, your patience slowly dissipating.

 _Thank God,_ Finn reached across the end table to place a hand on Poe's thigh, as if to appease him. And miraculously, it seemed to work. Maybe they had some kind of secret language. Or maybe when you're truly soulmates, you don't need to say words to communicate with each other. You felt a sudden pang of guilt for initially being so against their engagement. But amidst all the tension in the room, you let it dissipate, deciding to save it for later.

"So...why are you telling us this now?" Finn asked.

You sighed, wringing your hands in your lap. "Um...well...the thing is, when it ended—just before he resigned—" you explained, "I obviously, uh , coped with it in the wrong way." Suddenly, you found the floor very interesting, and couldn't seem to tear your gaze from your shoes. "I just wanted you to know why I dropped off the face of the earth. And I wanted to apologize."

"But why now?" Finn asked. Thankfully, by the tone of his voice, you gathered that he seemed genuinely curious, and that the question wasn't a judgement.

You finally felt brave enough to look at him, and raised your gaze. "I tried to forget the whole thing happened. I tried to pretend like it didn't exist. And obviously, that did a hell of a lot more harm than good. I want answers," you told them. "Closure. Just...I want to know what happened with him."

"What happened?" Finn asked, furrowing a brow.

You exhaled wearily. "It was...going really well. I know how that sounds, since he was my teacher, but believe me. What we had was...legit. And he wasn't turning away from it at first. But then, weird stuff started happening."

"Weird stuff?" Poe asked, quirking a brow, finally looking somewhat interested in what you were saying—and not in a starkly negative way.

You sighed yet again. You'd told them all the details of your relationship, and mentioned his family. But there was one more bomb you had to drop. "I found out that his real name isn't Kylo Ren."

Poe looked shocked. Finn looked like he'd been dropped into a mystery flick, and he was absolutely loving it. "His real name is Ben Solo. His parents are Han and Leia Organa-Solo."

Poe didn't recognize the name, but Finn's jaw dropped to the floor, and he nudged his fiancé.

"Han and Leia who now?" Poe asked.

"They're famous philanthropists," Finn answered excitedly before you could get a word out. "They're famous. And powerful. In a good way," he clarified. "But why change his name?"

"That's the thing. I guess he had some insane falling out with his family, years ago, and hadn't talked to them in years before his mother got sick. And there's another thing. I met this woman at the gala I went to with Ren, and it turns out, they used to be close. She didn't give me any details about this, but she told me that Ren ' _did something'_ to his father."

"And where's his father now?" Poe was leaning so far forward in his seat now, you half-expected him to fall out.

"Dead."

The boys exchanged looks, like they'd just uncovered a gold-mine. "You don't think-"

"No, I don't think he murdered his father, you fucking idiot," you answered a bit too quickly. Immediately, you steadied yourself. "Sorry. That was...sorry. I just mean, I don't think he's a _murderer,_ and I don't think you do either." You gave them both a look.

"Then what was the woman at the gala talking about?"

You were silent for a moment too long, before admitting, "maybe there was an...accident."

Finn and Poe exhaled in shock. Clearly, they were enjoying this a bit too much.

"But what does this have to do with you?" Rose interjected.

"You said it yourself. Maybe having his family back in his life is the reason he went so batshit crazy in our relationship. I think something's going on with his mother. Something bigger than her sickness. I think he's...afraid of his own past. And of dragging me into it." You sighed again. "Look...I think deep down, he's a good person. I think his past has really messed him up. I think he feels like he's on his own. And that doesn't excuse the way he's been acting. I know that. I just want answers."

Finn was practically rubbing his palms together. "I _do_ love playing detective."

"Yeah, you love N.C.I.S.," Rose deadpanned. "This is different."

You turned to Poe, and were surprised to find him— and you wished you were exaggerating— stroking his chin, evidently deep in thought. "It _does_ make you wonder what's wrong with the guy."

Finally, you made the call to interject. "Look. I appreciate you guys and all the support you've given me, even when I haven't been a very good friend. But I'm only telling you all of this because I think I owe you the truth. This is something I need to do on my own. I've been enough trouble as it is."

Poe lowered his hand. Finn turned to you and cocked his head to the side. Rose...well, Rose's expression was rather blank, but in a way, it spoke volumes nonetheless.

"Didn't you just say that you never should have kept this from your friends in the first place? You can't expect us to sit around and let you handle this on your own _now,"_ Poe told you.

"Exactly. Plus, I'll never turn down an opportunity to solve a good mystery."

You opened your mouth to speak, but were too dumbfounded. You turned to Rose, partially hoping she'd tell you that you were on your own. Because honestly, you deserved nothing more than that.

"You're right," she finally told you. "I said that I didn't trust the way Ren left things. It's time to figure out why, once and for all."

You gawked at them, searching for words in the crevices of your brain but coming up nearly empty. Grateful. Amazing. They were...you didn't deserve them. How could you _possibly_ deserve such an insane, creepy, weird, protective incredible group of friends?

 _Family_.

"This...this is really nice and all," you finally conceded. "But honestly, I didn't have a plan. I just figured I'd put my stalker hat on. But I have _no_ idea where to start."

"Don't you?" Poe asked, quirking a brow, and suddenly looking a bit amused. "You can't think of _anyone_ who might be able to tell you about Kylo Ren's personal life before he became a professor?"

"I..." you trailed off, shaking your head. And then: " _oh my fucking God."_ How did you not think of this sooner?

Poe was already standing, grabbing his signature, weather-beaten brown, leather jacket from the coat-hook, and slinging it over his broad shoulders. "Ladies and gentlemen, I think it's about time we make a house call."

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━

You could imagine, in your mind, how it must have looked: four students, all of whom he disliked, (mutuality) with you being the one exception. And how could you forget that he'd repeatedly called the cops on two of you for hosting parties that exceeded his preferred noise level?

Imagining it in his eyes didn't make the entire thing any less weird.

Hux didn't move for the longest time, only eyed the four of you with deep suspicion, undoubtedly what the hell you were doing on his porch after dark, and what trouble you were about to raise—and drag him into.

You were the first to speak. You knew that Hux had warmed up to you exponentially. That certainly didn't mean he trusted your taste in friends. "Can we come in?" You asked, forcing a smile and trying to look hopeful.

His eyes narrowed on you. "What's this about?"

"Something off the record." You raised your brows knowingly.

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know I can't talk about that. We've _discussed_ this."

"You've _discus-"_ Poe began furiously, his outrage only quelling when you held up a hand and gave him a look that plainly read, _I'll explain later._

Hux raised a hand too, looking exasperated. "I can't openly discuss this with any of you. I-"

"Oh come on, dude. What, are you worried she's gonna turn you in?" Poe demanded. "Do you really think she's going to out _herself,_ and let the whole world know that she's been getting railed by her English professo-"

"That's enough!" Hux raised his voice in a way that made you go silent immediately. You'd always known him to be the quiet kind of conniving, with a very secret, kind side to him. _This_ side of him was completely different altogether. You all went quiet. And your eyes went wide.

Hux's clenched fist relaxed just enough for him to raise a pointer finger. "I don't want to hear any specifics, do you understand me? I don't want to hear names, and I don't want to hear dates, and I don't want to hear places. Let's get this over with."

"Ay, ay, captain," Poe muttered, brushing past Hux with a bump to his shoulder as he swept up the porch and through the open door.

The "no names" rule didn't last long, but you were cognizant not to mention any nefarious details. You explained to Hux, plain and simple, that all you wanted to know about was what Kylo was like _before_ he'd even become a professor, and even before Hux had become the dean. That seemed to relax him a little; details of your own personal... _relations..._ would be kept out of the discussion completely.

"I don't know anything about Kylo's family," he told you bluntly once you were all inside, gathered in his living room.

Well...fuck.

"Well that was a whole lot of build-up for nothing," Poe grumbled, eyeing Hux with deep dislike.

"Don't misunderstand me," Hux said, holding up a hand. "I knew Kylo when he was in undergrad. I was at his graduation. What I mean was that he was _notorious_ for not having a family at all. No visits _ever—_ nothing. The rumor at the time was that the kid was an orphan," he said. "Not that anyone cared that much; it wasn't really anyone's business. But people did talk...at first, at least. I knew his freshman year RA, and he said that he never once saw Ren with his parents, or any other relatives. And when he'd bring it up to Ren, he never talked." Hux's gaze jumped to each of you. You were practically lunged forward in your seat; this whole thing felt like an incredibly enticing mystery novel. And you were _dying_ to know how it would end.

"So it was public knowledge that Ren didn't have a family?"

Hux nodded.

"But we know he _does_ have a family. We know that they've been estranged for years."

Hux's brow furrowed. "Does he?"

"You didn't know?"

"Ren is hardly an open book," he deadpanned.

Fair enough.

"Do you know anything about Ren's dad?"

Hux furrowed his brow. "I just told you I never knew him to have a family."

"But he _did,"_ you reminded him. But then, another idea struck you. "Did he ever...change?"

Hux blinked, drawing a hand to his jaw, stroking his skin in thought. "In what way?"

You sighed, unsure of what it was, exactly, you were trying to say. "Did he ever seem like...something might have happened in his personal life? You know, did he ever _change_? Like he'd seen something? Or...done something?"

Hux lifted his brows as if he was surprised you asked. "Did he ever change?" he echoed. His eyes drifted to the wall. He stared at it quietly for a few moments, as if transfixed by a memory. And then, they were on you again. "When I was at school with Ren, he was loud and boisterous. Always picking an argument, always laughing with his friends, causing chaos, eager to learn. Does that sound like the Ren you know now?"

You shook your head. "No. It doesn't."

Not even close.

"When he came back from undergrad, he was a different person. Quieter. Much more...intense."

 _Much more like you,_ you couldn't help but think.

"In between undergrad and his first year of graduate school, something happened. I don't know what it was. I don't want to." He eyed you. A cautious warning, perhaps. That maybe you needn't know what it was, either. He became someone else entirely."

You stood, suddenly feeling the weight of the truth of Ren's estrangement with his family. The deeper you dove, the weirder this whole thing got.

Hux seemed eager to show you all out. You were teetering the lines of the boundaries that you and he had both agreed to established under the circumstances. But the truth was, you really enjoyed the guy, and hoped that you hadn't made him hate you.

The four of you gathered on Finn and Poe's porch, hands stuffed in pockets, feet shuffling. Unsure of your next move.

"It's not a lot to go on," Poe was the first to admit.

"It's everything to go on," you replied. "After undergrad...that must have been when the...the thing happened," you said in a quiet voice.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Rose asked. "Are you sure you want to _know?"_

You pondered the thought for a long while. It would be easier to forget it all. But you _couldn't._ You'd tried for six months, and you'd failed spectacularly. Ren had told you before that he'd never be able to introduce you to his family. And if that was what really caused your relationship to end, then you deserved to know why.

With or without his help.

With or without his permission.


	33. Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Let’s make a deal,” you told him, sitting up and reaching for your bra, clipping it back behind you. You checked the straps of your dress; they’d been a little stretched at the hands of Kylo’s forcefulness, but thankfully, it was intact. “If you can keep your hands off me, if you can resist me, then I won’t seek you out. I won’t force it. I’ll find someone else, and I’ll ride his cock like I rode yours.” Kylo’s jaw tensed visibly, the muscles practically jumping beneath his skin. You took the in, grinning and leaning in, resting a forearm across his chest, drawing yourself in close, lips nearly brushing his. 
> 
> “But if you can’t,” you continued, “if you can’t stay away from me, can’t keep your hands off of my body, can’t bring yourself to stop yourself when you’re with me,” your voice lowered. “Then I swear to you, Kylo Ren, I’m going to discover all of your secrets. I’m going to find out why you fucked with me. And you’re going to regret it.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I just wanted to give you a heads up that while I’m trying to post chapters quickly, I have two original projects in the works, so updates for HMH may have a bit of a delay as I continue to write my other things. I’m also having a pretty rough fucking time emotionally right now, which makes everything a million times more difficult. Any good vibes you can manifest are much appreciated. Now, onward!

When you'd walked into work only to be immediately tracked down by Grace, who asked to speak with you privately around 10:00 A.M in conference room A, you felt your heart hit the floor of your body.

This was it. You'd finally been caught fucking your professor—or, rather, your boss, now—and you were _fucked._ You spent the entire morning in too much crippling, agonizing nervousness to do any work. So instead, you just stared at your computer screen and pretended to work while your fingers trembled violently and you struggled to swallow thanks to the dustiness mounting in your mouth and throat. It was pure agony that you weren't in the Press's office space anymore. If only you could run down the hall and confirm that there were security cameras in the copier room...

Not that it mattered now.

The hour that separated 9:00 and 10:00 felt like a single day squished into sixty minutes. You hated the waiting and wanted nothing more than to get your sacking over with, until 10:00 came around, of course, and you were walking into the conference room feeling blurred and disconnected from the world, so stunned by your own carelessness.

You sat down across from Grace, who had her hands folded on top of the table.

 _I should just come clean,_ you told yourself. Try to redeem yourself as much as you could.

Thank God you didn't.

"I want to discuss your choice of major with you, Miss [Y/LN]."

You blinked. "I...my what?"

She pinched her brow. "Your chosen course of study," she said, looking at you oddly.

"I- _oh."_ You exhaled deeply, hoping she didn't notice the way your breath rattled on the way out of your lungs, but almost forgetting to care. Relief washed over you like a wave strong enough to knock over your entire body. Your fingers squeezed the arms of your chair, the feeling that the world was spinning slowly beginning to dissipate. "Right, yes, of course."

She smiled—but didn't look happy. If anything ...a little _apologetic._ You furrowed your brow. She seemed to take that as the go-ahead to continue.

"These past few weeks having you in the office have been really beneficial. You have a very meticulous eye. You're a strong proofreader, and we've been lucky to have you."

That sounded rather... _conclusive._ You frowned, and didn't say anything, not liking where it seemed like the conversation was headed.

She cleared her throat before continuing. "This is a very prestigious internship, as you know," she said, eyeing you with a raised brow. "Many of our interns are hired into full-time positions, if not here, then at one of the other top firms in the city. And we'd love to have you back. But the position you'd be placed in...well, there's more to editing at a newspaper press than just the proofing side. There are many, many other facets involved and, well...most of our hires have a stronger background in journalism."

Your jaw was set tight. _Then why bother hiring me in the first place?_ you thought. "Right," you said tightly. "Well, my English literature degree has a strong focus in composition. So, I feel that that could be very beneficial when applied to an editor position."

Grace's hands seemed to tighten, and she looked at you, again, apologetically, but without yielding. "Your college has a _wonderful_ journalism graduate program. It might be something to consider."

"If you don't employ literary majors, then why hire one as an intern? Why hire me if you had no intention of taking me on permanently?"

"Oh, please don't misunderstand! We would _love_ to have you on. The truth is...as you know, we usually take on graduate students as our interns. But your resume and your samples were so impressive that we decided to make an exception."

 _Which puts me at a massive disadvantage,_ you realized. You exhaled on a huff, stunned. You thought you'd made incredible strides by landing this internship as an undergrad. But the truth was, it was holding you back. Because of your age and your major, they weren't even going to _consider_ taking you on. And it made you fucking seethe.

Grace cleared her throat when she realized you weren't going to speak. "Unfortunately, its's not entirely common for us to take on English literature majors and place them in full time positions."

"What about Kylo Ren?" you deadpanned, pursing your lips.

Grace blinked at you, looking a little stunned. Whether it was because she'd merely heard his name or because you'd had the audacity to compare yourself to him, you weren't sure. But you could already feel yourself growing hot under your skin, like your insides were being brought to a low simmer.

" Kylo Ren is...extraordinary," Grace replied with a little laugh, as if whatever you were trying to suggest was absolutely ridiculous.

"Who's to say I'm not?" you challenged, before you could stop yourself.

Grace stared at you like you'd insulted her mother. Whether it was shock or horror or a mix of both, you weren't sure. You could feel more heat rising to your cheeks, and mentally, you tried to quell it, but you knew that there was no point. You told yourself not to feel embarrassed, and not to back down. You were standing up for yourself. You were fighting for your abilities . Kylo always told you that the industry could be cutthroat, and sometimes, you had to be aggressive to make a case for yourself. At least he'd left you that bit of wisdom.

When Grace finally— _finally—_ opened her mouth to speak, the words were cut off before they could even begin to be uttered; the door suddenly flung open, and you spun around in your chair so fast, your spine felt akin to a whip. You gripped the arms of your chair as you stared open-mouthed and dumbfounded as Kylo Ren stood in the doorway, looking surprisingly exasperated, eyes darting between you and Grace.

"Mr. Ren!" Grace stammered. "I'm so sorry sir, did you need something?"

His eyes landed on you again. "I. ..I was looking for Miss [L/N], and Lindi told me that you two would be in a meeting." His eyes fell on Grace again. Had he... _called_ the office? Heard about the meeting? Figured that it would be about the same thing you initially thought it was about, and sped all the way over here?

"I was just informing Miss [L/N] about the benefits of a degree in journalism. I told her if she would consider that route, then she would make a _most excellent_ editor here at the Bulletin."

"Right. Which is why I'm here," he said quickly. Too quickly. He was more jittery than you'd ever seen him. The image of a man who had come here thinking the both of you were about to go down for fucking in the office, and who now had to make shit up on the fly to cover for himself. "I'd like to take her out for some field experience."

"Field experience?" Grace asked, looking bushwhacked.

"Personal coaching," he said, much more firmly this time.

"But sir...she has articles to edit."

"If you don't value her educational experience as you say, then surely you won't having any qualms assigning her duties to the receptionist," he quipped.

You stood abruptly in your chair as Ren exited the room, not even giving Grace a single glance back as you chased after him.

His legs were more like stilts, so it was a chore to keep up with him. You walked as briskly as you could; the last thing you needed was to draw even more attention to yourself and Ren by breaking after him into a sprint.

"If you get me fired for this, I'm going to _kill_ you!" you hissed once you reached the parking lot, finally darting into a jog to reach his side.

Ren didn't slow down. "I own the branch. Anything I say is law. That means anything I tell the intern to do," he said, turning sharply and seizing your wrist in a tight-gripping hand, " _she does."_

You swallowed thickly, trembling slightly in the shadow of his towering body as he hitched forward to stared deeply and menacingly into your eyes. After a few moments of tense silence, you found your head again, and wrenched your arm away. "I don't have to do _anything_ you tell me to do."

"You do if you want to keep your job." Kylo had already turned, and was walking towards his car, retrieving his keys from his pocket and unlocking the doors.

"That's...you're fucking DISGUSTING, Kylo , I could get you _fired_ if I told Grace you said th-"

"Save your breath and get me fired for what we did the other night," he replied curtly, ducking into the driver's side of his car and vanishing from your view.

You stood there on the spot, seething, your hands trembling furiously in little fists at your side. Then you finally conceded and followed Ren, wrenching the passenger's door open and slamming it shut when you were seated inside.

He started the engine without a word. You turned to look at him. His saw was set and statuesque, eyes laser-focused and fixed on nothing other than where he was driving as he pulled out of the lot.

Neither of you spoke for a good few moments . When the silence became irritating and the sound of the tires against the road dull and droning, you finally opened your mouth. "Where are you taking me?" you spat.

"Quiet."

Your jaw dropped open in fury, and you narrowed your eyes into him so deeply that you were practically staring at him through little slits. "You...you're..." But you couldn't even finish the thought. You turned forward again, crossing your arms over your chest with a huff, and fixed your eyes on the road ahead, determined not to give him another look.

You only drove for about ten minutes before Kylo Ren pulled into a tree-lined backroad off of Concord Avenue. That was finally enough to give you pause; you furrowed your brows and craned your neck to examine the scenery around you.

It was lush, green, dense, and desolate. Definitely a large park of some kind, it seemed. He drove for a long while, and you noticed off the bat that there was no one around. _Wherever he's taking me, he'd better have a good fucking reason,_ you grumbled internally, trying not to appreciate the scenery.

He parked the car in the shoulder of the road after a few more minutes of driving. He stepped without so much as a word to you. You grimaced at him, but followed after, rolling your eyes in frustration as he disappeared into the tree line.

You smacked away twigs and branches, silently cursing his name for dragging you out here when you were in heels.

But you quickly dropped all negative thoughts as soon as you'd stepped into the clearing after him.

You stood in a low, green meadow, a gentle breeze soothing your skin as it rolled atop a crystal, blue pond. Kylo stood on the bank, facing the water, his back to you, his hands on his hips.

You took a step forward, suddenly wondering if this was the moment Kylo Ren finally murdered you. "Why did you bring me here?" you snapped.

"I come here to think," he replied, voice equally curt.

"Congratulations."

He turned then, giving you a decidedly pointed look. "Why are you here, [Y/N]?" he asked suddenly.

You furrowed your brow. "Is that a trick fucking question? You dragged me out here against my will, risking my job in the process."

"Why are you here _at the Press?" h_ e seethed, closing the distance between you in what appeared to be one surging lunge.

You stopped breathing when he drew close to you, and could feel your eyes growing wide. You held your ground nonetheless. "I'm not _at_ the fucking Press. I'm at the Bulletin, and I had no way of knowing that you'd be there too, or believe me, I would have steered clear," you spat, raising your hands.

His eyes narrowed and darkened as somehow, he took another step. You didn't think you could have been any closer. Regrettably , you were mistaken.

"And what do you want out of this?"

"I want to do my job and I want you to leave me alone," you hurled back.

"Think carefully about this," Ren seethed. "Your future isn't a _joke,_ but if you continue to treat it like one, it very may well turn out to be."

You clenched your jaw, scowling up at him. But finally, you conceded just as much as you needed to, feeling your shoulders drop and the tension in your face begin to dissipate. You sighed. If he was trying to help you...well, that was the least he could do after everything.

"I don't know," you confessed. "I thought I knew what path I wanted to be on. I thought that being a good writer would be enough to land me a job I wanted. But I've spent so long working—on my writing, my schoolwork, _everything—_ that I don't even know what I want anymore. What do _you_ want?"

His expression flattened. "I want to figure out why the hell you keep showing up whenever I've just gotten rid of you."

This time, _you_ took a step forward, chest brushing against his as you thrust your chin upwards to stare directly in a face with a glare that could have put him in the grave. You were no match for his height (who was?) but you were as level with him as you could be. "The feeling is fucking mutual," you swiped back venomously.

All was still and silent.

But only for a moment.

Kylo growled as his hand flew to the back of your neck, wrenching you against him as his lips crashed into yours. He seared you with a kiss, devouring you and swallowing you down, and immediately you complied, breaching his lips with your tongue and delving inside his mouth in combative swirls.

He was forcing you to the ground just as you began to gasp for air. You clawed at him as he lowered you, your lips searching, crashing back into his the second your ass and back were settled against the grass.

He kissed like he was making up for six months without you, save for the incident in the copier room. His tongue twisted and dove, hands holding your face firmly, his head moving to grasp different angles, to taste you from every direction. You could hardly breathe under the weight of his body that pinned you between him and the ground, but still couldn't dream of stopping. The only thing that mattered was keeping him tightly against you. Instinctively, you drove your hips upwards into his. He growled in response to the sensation, biting your lower lip. You grunted and yanked at his hair and he growled again as you forced him away, using the brief moment of physical separation to shove at his shoulders, pinning him on the grass underneath you. You weren't about to get stains on your dress.

You swung a leg over his hips so you hovered above him in a straddle. You didn't know when his hands had found your waist, but they were there, digging into your hip bones as he eyed you hungrily, pupils blown and lips swollen and wet.

The two of you stared at each other with intensity that seemed to send something hot crackling through the air. You were still; only looking at each other, a silent exchange, a mutual decision. The stillness was broken for both of you and wordlessly, you'd decided. His hands flew to the skirt of your dress, shoving the fabric up your thighs in the exact instant that your fingers darted to tear the strap of his belt out of the buckle, wrenching it open and to the side, unzipping his pants so you could yank them down to the tops of his thighs.

Theoretically, you could have climbed off to remove your panties. But you needed him inside of you _now._ You could feel it in the same way that you could feel pain, and ached for relief. Kylo pulled his cock free, and the decision was made for you. You shoved the fabric of your panties an inch to the side, and sank yourself down onto Kylo's length.

You exhaled on a groan at the sheer, sizable relief. Kylo groaned, his jaw falling open, the sound reaching the sky.

You rolled your hips slowly at first, drawing torturous circles as you adjusted to his size. With each motion, you could feel yourself stretch. Only after enjoying a few impatient groans from Kylo did you finally begin to move in earnest, bouncing up and down, riding the entire length of his cock, pace growing more and more urgent with each second.

He rolled his hands up your arms when you began to ride him, his grip tight and desperate. His hands fell to your thighs next, savoring your skin underneath his strong fingers as you fucked him. He rolled his palms upward until they reached your hips and they settled there, hands so expansive against your body that his thumbs dug into the muscles of your abdomen. You moaned loudly, arching your back and lifting your chest, thighs screaming at the tension of working yourself up and down his incredible length.

You placed your hands over Kylo's , keeping them flat and tight against your hips. You moaned, and his captivating eyes took you in; you didn't kiss, didn't lean down to nuzzle against him. He was on his back, and then there was you, bouncing on his dick. And you just stared at each other, the silence hot, heavy, and crackling in the air, the weight of your gazes heavy and intoxicating. All was silent save for the moans and hot, hitched breaths.

And _fuck—_ it was magnificent.

You moaned harder at the sensation of feeling him penetrate you impossibly deeply. You braced one hand on his chest and placed the other on your lowly belly so he could know how deep you felt him. He growled in response, and you felt his hands fly to the straps of your dress, yanking it down your shoulders. You heard the telltale sounds of ripping seams but couldn't bring yourself to give a fuck. Your hands flew behind your back and you ripped at your bra until it was free. You threw it to the side, your breasts bare before his eyes. He licked his lower lip before sinking his teeth down onto it, exhaling hotly through his nose.

His hands quickly found your ribcage and they slid upwards before they found your breasts, which bounced violently as you moved as quickly as you could, moans falling off your lips but sounding somewhat more like screams. Kylo grunted on a gruff exhale, slapped one tit on a downward motion, followed with the other, before suddenly yanking your bracing arm out of the way and throwing his arms around you to force you against his chest.

Your mouth fell open and you cried out, squeezing your eyes shut as Kylo began to work his hips, ramming them up against yours, driving his cock into your tight pussy at impossible speed. Skin against skin, obscene slapping and heavy breathing filled your ears and intoxicated your mind, echoing off the trees and the water. God, this was wrong. You were in _public,_ for fuck's sake, but whenever you were with him like this, nothing else mattered. And that never seemed to change.

Warmth pooled inside you like something invasive and overtaking. He exhaled hotly against your ear, groaning and spilling expletives as he rammed into your cunt at breakneck speed.

"Kylo ," you groaned. " _f_ _uck,_ fuck me harder."

A low groan was his only response as he thrusted up against you even harder. It was so painful that stars shot into your vision but it was fucking euphoric all the same.

" _Fuck,_ don't stop," you choked. "If you keep doing that, I'm gonna-"

" _Cum,"_ he growled, voice dark and low and intoxicating. "Cum on my fucking dick, you cockslut."

If the thrusting didn't plunge you into oblivion...then that did. Your eyes clamped shut and you cried out, unintelligible expletives spilling from your lips as he fucked you through a blinding orgasm that forced tremors through your body. That sent him over the edge, and he thrusted inside you through his own pleasure, each spurt of cum that flooded your tight, wet cunt drawing another gravely, drawn groan from Kylo.

His hips slowed. Yours did too, rolling languidly against him to ride out the very end of your pleasure. When it was spent, you collapsed on top of him before rolling off onto your back, chest bare and sweaty, facing skyward.

You were both silent and tense for a long few minutes. The air was empty save for your shared, heaving breaths that slowly began to steady.

"This was the last time," Kylo murmured once he finally began to come down.

"No it's not," you muttered.

You heard his hair brush the grass as he turned to look at you.

You looked back, propping yourself up on your elbow, gazing down at him. "I don't know how this ends ," you said firmly. "But we can't stay away from each other. _You_ can't stay away from _me._ I know that... and you know that."

Kylo looked incensed. But he didn't argue.

"Let's make a deal," you told him, sitting up and reaching for your bra, clipping it back behind you. You checked the straps of your dress; they'd been a little stretched at the hands of Kylo's forcefulness , but thankfully, it was intact. "If you can keep your hands off me, if you can _resist_ me, then I won't seek you out. I won't force it. I'll find someone else, and I'll ride his cock like I rode yours." Kylo's jaw tensed visibly, the muscles practically jumping beneath his skin. You took the in, grinning and leaning in, resting a forearm across his chest, drawing yourself in close, lips nearly brushing his.

"But if you _can't,"_ you continued, "if you can't stay away from me, can't keep your hands off of my body, can't bring yourself to _stop yourself_ when you're with me..." Your voice lowered. "Then I swear to you, Kylo Ren, I'm going to discover all of your secrets. I'm going to find out why you fucked with me. And you're going to regret it."

The last words were barely audible. Kylo just stared back at you, stunned into silence, pupils blown, lungs devoid of air.

You brushed your lower lip against his. It was less than a kiss. And then you stood, adjusting yourself, and setting back for the car. "Now drive me back to the office," you called over your shoulder. 


	34. Playing With Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He growled. “Do you think this is a game? Do you think this is funny?” 
> 
> “I told you,” you snarled, lurching yourself up onto your toes to try and match his height; it was a pointless effort. “That with or without your help, I’m going to figure out what you’re hiding, and I’m going to make you regret it.” 
> 
> “You're playing with fire,” he hissed, lips only inches from yours; you felt a thin, hot stream of air flutter across your face, and tried to ignore how intoxicating it felt. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with,” his voice was low and dark, like gravel or stone. “If you keep sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, I promise you, you won’t like what you find. So stay out of it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I’m so sorry the update took so long. Again, things have been crazy and stressful lately but I wanted to thank you all for the well-wishes. You guys are so kind, and your comments on here and DM’s on wattpad honestly keep me going. Your patience is so much appreciated. I love you all dearly. Enjoy the chapter!

The following week proved to be incident free, shockingly enough. You were proud in your quiet triumph; not only had you given Ren a piece of your mind, but Grace was finally leaving you alone, dropping her gaze whenever you passed her in the office. It was strange, but Kylo Ren's apparent favor for you was acting like a sort of...shield at the Bulletin. You figured that if Grace still had an issue with your lack of journalism education, you could worry about it another day.

When Friday came around, the quiet, albeit powerful stagnation that had allowed you to relax throughout the week came to a screeching halt—this time, in the best way.

You burst through your own front door so aggressively you nearly knocked it off the hinges. But you barely noticed. This time—for once—you came bearing good news. And it was absolutely fucking delicious.

Finn and Poe were seated on your couch, Rose on the armchair, curled up and working on some homework. When you came home from work, it wasn't uncommon to find the two men were already there. But you were still grateful they were there tonight, because this was too good.

You huffed, bracing yourself on your legs as you caught your breath, smile plastered on your face.

"What the hell?" Rose asked, closing her laptop and setting it on the end table.

"You'll never guess. You'll never fucking guess."

"What?" Poe demanded, looking impatient.

You grinned even harder, finally straightening yourself up, grinning devilishly. "Please tell me none of you have plans tomorrow night."

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

Apparently, The Press's annual end-of-summer outing was meant as a bonding and networking opportunity for employees of the Press, including the branch—The Bulletin. And where your place of work was considerably more laid-back than its owner, it only made sense that a Press-held event would be of a very high standard.

The outing was to be held at one of the most expensive bars in the city, Canto Bight. Even Poe hadn't been to this place before, and he came from money. But there was Poe money, and then there was money held by the kind of people who worked at the Press.

People like Ren.

Most guests were permitted a plus-one: husbands and wives, various significant others, the like. So when you strolled up to the Canto Blight with Rose, Poe, _and_ Finn on your heels, you weren't sure if you were actually allowed three guests. But you were sure about one thing—your internship only lasted a couple more months, and Grace had already made it painfully clear that she wasn't intending to hire you back. So the opportunity was more than worth it. And simply too good to pass up.

"Do I look okay?" you whispered to Rose when you stepped inside the venue, dragging her off to the side, out of the way of the guests streaming in through the front door. The event was reserved especially for the Press, and everyone looked to be about of the same caliber. You took a steadying breath. Even though you were an intern, you deserved to be there too, you reminded yourself.

"You look incredible," she assured you, and you smoothed down your skirt, though there wasn't much smoothing to do. The dress was practically skin-tight, but it hugged your curves immaculately, the red color of the fabric undoubtedly as eye-grabbing as the admittedly plunging neckline.

You thanked Rose, and scanned the crowd. "I don't see him yet," you muttered. "Everyone be on their best behavior until after dinner," you said, turning back to your friends. "Let's just stay out of trouble until we move upstairs for drinks."

"And then?" Finn asked.

"Moral support?" you asked. "Have fun? Make him uncomfortable. Honestly? Live your dreams. All I know is that he's done with fucking with me and getting away with it," you grumbled.

Finn and Poe both grinned devilishly. It was too late to wonder if this was a good decision.

You didn't see Kylo while you ate. At least you could enjoy your meal in some sense of peace; there must have been nearly fifty employees in the venue, and craning your neck to try and find him amongst the limited amount of people in your direct line of vision was a fruitless effort.

You ascended the stairs to the second floor after dinner in close formation with your friends, feeling emboldened, if a little nervous. Being four college kids, you made a beeline for the bar first thing, surpassing all of the other leisurely-moving guests, securing a place at the front of the line, knowing that alcohol would help quell the butterflies. Poe got a round of shots, and each of you got a cocktail of choice as well. Ushering everyone off to the side, you raised your shot glass, taking a moment to make eye contact with each of them.

"Operation 'Destroy Kylo' is ago," you said, and shot the contents of the glass into the back of your throat. The three of them followed closely behind you.

"We should split up," Poe suggested. "Text the group chat if you see him," he instructed, holding up his phone with a little wave before turning on his heel.

He and Finn took to the far right wall, and Rose the left. You stayed hovering near the bar, eyes glued to where the staircase rose from the atrium below.

You sipped your drink nervously. This was an insane idea, you told yourself. Insane, stupid, and petty. But you needed your friends by your side. And any form of docile revenge you could hang over Kylo's head, anything to harmlessly torment him would be child's play compared to what he'd done to you. Where was the harm in a little fun?

The moment you felt your confidence boost, however, it was nearly shattered as you saw him rise from the staircase, entering the second level. Your heart leapt to your throat, and you swallowed thickly. The nerves, thankfully, where nowhere near as bad as they used to be. But you also figured that as long as Kylo was in your life, you'd never be completely free of them.

Your eyes narrowed on him as he scanned the crowd. Was he looking for you? Was he looking for another woman? He hadn't denied being involved with someone else, you reminded yourself. You wondered if she might be here tonight. If she was another Cora Tille.

Your eyes were glued to him. And you watched his eyes fall on Poe first. Poe's head turned to Kylo with a smirk. And you saw the recognition dawn on Kylo's face. Kylo had met Poe before, nearly a year ago, at the bar. Kylo recognized Poe because when he'd met him, he'd been with _you_. You held your breath, watching the taller of the two put the pieces together, brow furrowed, trying fruitlessly to piece together why one—no, two—of your friends were there. And undoubtedly wondering why they were looking at Kylo like that. God, you wanted to see the look on his face when he saw Rose.

As if on cue, your phone buzzed in your hand the second you had the thought. Looking down, you saw a text to the group chat—from Rose.

I'm moving in, she said, heading to the bar.

You ducked into the crowd, deciding to let Rose at him first, determined to hang by, shielded by bodies as you pretended to simply be absentmindedly nursing your drink.

"Professor Ren." You heard Rose's voice rise above the cluster of people that stood between you and her. You couldn't see them, and certainly didn't want to reveal yourself. You stayed hidden, listening intently.

"Miss Tico." Kylo's voice was, of course, completely unmistakable. And he sounded entirely off-guard. You smirked to yourself, hoping that he felt like seeing all your friends so unexpectedly felt akin to seeing ghosts coming to haunt him. "What are you doing here?" A tone of a man trying desperately to sound nonchalant. Ren was many things, but a good actor wasn't necessarily one of them.

"[Y/N] was kind enough to invite us," she said. You could hear the kindness in her voice, could practically see her smiling in your mind's eye. But the context of the situation brewed hotly under her kind guise. You grinned. "Myself, Finn, and Poe, that is."

"How interesting," you heard him reply curtly. "Typically, lower ranking employees aren't permitted to bring so many guests to an open-bar event."

"I'm sure we all just assumed that you'd make another exception for her," Rose replied sweetly. Your eyes widened, and you stifled a gasp on the back of your hand. "You're the boss, after all."

There was unmistakable silence. And then, "If you'll excuse me, Miss Tico."

You ducked through the crowd, putting some distance in between you and Kylo. You found a new place, instead, where Rose had been standing before, along the wall on the far side of the room, near the back corridor. You drank heavily, not sure if you should be horrified or delighted. Your mind and body quickly seemed to decide for you, however, and you couldn't hide the grin plastered to your face as you brought the cocktail glass up to your lips.

You felt him at your side before you heard or saw him. It was like he carried with him an aura of darkness that crept into your skin, that hovered above you like your own personal storm cloud whenever he came near. But it wasn't all darkness. It wasn't just lightning and rain. It was intoxicating. Red. Heavy. Hot.

You gave him the most fleeting of glances before redirecting your gaze back to the crowd. He looked uncomfortable and irritated. You figured since that was the case, you'd done your job.

Kylo followed your gaze across the room, to where Finn and Poe stood, eyeing the two of you plainly, wearing smirks to put Kylo to shame. You felt him stiffen at your side, and he cleared his throat.

"I see you've brought your friends," he said flatly.

"My friends and I have each others' best interests at heart," you informed him, lifting your chin. "As it turns out, they too are interested to find out all the secrets of Ben Solo."

His jaw visibly tightened. "You're telling me your friends are involved in your little effort to pry into my life? You're saying they know about us?"

You smirked, letting your eyes trail his face. "Don't flatter yourself into thinking there's an 'us,' Kylo."

You saw what happened next in such a rapid flash, you couldn't commit it all to memory. His face flickered with anger, nostrils flaring as you felt a sharp tug at your wrist, and before you knew it, Kylo was yanking you behind the wall behind you, into the back corridor. He wrenched open the first door on the right, and you held your breath as he ungently threw you inside, stepping in behind you. The sound of the door closing behind him was deafening. And suddenly you realized how very alone you were.

You also realized he had you pinned up against the bathroom counter. The edge of the granite dug into your ass, his infinitely long legs barring any means of escape. Your chests were nearly brushing, and it was so, so difficult to draw breath...

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he growled. "Do you think this is a game? Do you think this is funny?"

"I told you," you snarled, lurching yourself up onto your toes to try and match his height; it was a pointless effort. "That with or without your help, I'm going to figure out what you're hiding, and I'm going to make you regret it."

"You're playing with fire," he hissed, lips only inches from yours; you felt a thin, hot stream of air flutter across your face, and tried to ignore how intoxicating it felt. "You have no idea what you're dealing with." His voice was low and dark, like gravel or stone. "If you keep sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, I promise you, you won't like what you find. So stay out of it."

You stared at him deeply, watching the way he held his jaw so incredibly tight it nearly trembled. With anger? Fear? Both? Or something else that you didn't know? You trembled with anticipation, feeling your breath flutter in your chest. The heat between you was stifling, cutting off your air. Suddenly, you felt dizzy with his mouth that close to yours, seeing the wetness glisten off of his lips...

It happened quickly, in such a flurry that again, it was hard to process all of it, everything hitting you at once. Fingertips digging into your hips, your ass lifting, landing on the granite counter, the sound of clinking metal, Kylo's hands moving quickly, hands wrenching your dress up your thighs, fingers at your panties...and all you could do was reach for him.

He plunged into you before you realized his cock was out. You gasped, arms wrenching around his neck. He buried his face into your chest, his breath falling hot and heavy across your skin. His grunts were muffled against your breasts. He sucked at the cleavage accessible to him above your neckline, thrusting sharply into you. You wrapped your legs around his waist and met him halfway, thrusting your own hips and fucking yourself down on his cock. Everything was wetness and heat and your breath hitched as you gasped, chin turned to the ceiling, the dim chandelier blinding you as pleasure prickled at the corners of your vision.

"We can't do this here. We can't do this here," he breathed, but didn't stop. He only thrust even harder. Faster. Fucking you open on the bathroom counter, hips stuttering against yours. You could hear footsteps, movement, and conversational voices not far outside the door. If you got caught, if anyone saw you...

Heat and tension seized your core and as you and Kylo moved faster, it reached its peak, and both of you burst like stars in tandem. With one final, brutal thrust, Kylo knocked you back so hard that your back hit the mirror with a violent rattle, stuttering through the rest of his orgasm, drawing your own pleasure to completion. He covered your mouth with his forearm, and you bit into skin and bone, moaning around whatever you could fit into your mouth, squeezing your eyes shut until the tremors finally ceased, and you were left with simmering contentedness.

Your eyes fluttered open. Kylo was zipping up his dress pants, chest heaving with heavy breaths, eyes downcast, expression troubled. He was disappointed in himself. You could read it on him as clear as day.

" _If you can keep your hands off me, then I won't seek you out. But if you can't, then I swear to you, Kylo Ren, I'm going to discover all of your secrets.._." You'd said those words to him only a little over a week before. And it seemed that he couldn't, after all.

At least the two of you had that in common.

You slid off the counter, readjusting your panties, and then your skirt, straightening out the skin-tight fabric. He watched you do so, eyeing your dress—and plunging neckline-- with contempt.

He stood in the way of the doorway. You cocked a brow at him. "My friends are waiting for me," you informed him.

He set his jaw, and stepped aside. You smirked, slinking out the door through the smallest of gaps, shutting it tightly behind you.

Things were so different now. But funnily enough, they were starting to feel like old times.


	35. Warnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You furrowed your brow, and she dropped your hands. Then, she was gone, as quickly as she’d dragged you into the stacks. She left you in silence, left you wondering only one thing—what the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guysssss, thank you so much for 2000+ kudos. This is a milestone that I truly never dreamed of reaching. And as always, thank you for commenting. I read every. single. one. And they absolutely make my day. Thank you thank you thank you, I simply can't thank you enough. Hope you enjoy <3

You weren't sure how long you'd been tapping your fingers absentmindedly on your desk, but you didn't have any doubts that you were probably irritating any passersby that had the misfortune of walking near you. But in all honesty, you weren't even thinking about that. You were only mulling over, repeatedly, the plan that had been brewing in your mind all week.

But now that the opportunity was here, you were met with a small semblance of doubt, a tiny voice in the back of your mind that wasn't strong enough to change your mind, but was certainly enough to cast various shades of reluctance across ever corner of your rapidly working brain. Was this really what you wanted to do? Upend all of Kylo Ren's secrets just to find out why he'd dumped you?

" _You're playing with fire_ ," he'd said, with his long, lean, colossal body pressed up against yours, chest heaving with anger, with desire, with...something else?

But, then again, "dumped," wasn't the right word. He'd said plainly that the two of you still could have been together. How could you forget? But what he was offering wasn't good enough. You knew that you would never forget the fate for you that he'd cast—that you'd never truly be together. That you'd be nothing more than something he desired. He'd singlehandedly crushed any chance of you two truly being together. Had all but told you he'd never love you. You hadn't wanted to end things with him, to not take his opportunity. He'd forced your hand. No, he'd done more than that. He'd made the decision for you both. He'd made it impossible.

So, he may as well have dumped you.

But now—this. This newfound confidence. Bravery. A desire to crawl under his skin and infect his blood, make his mind swim with thoughts of nothing but you. And to find out what was so wrong with him that made it not only impossible to love someone, but seemingly to give him the tendency to hate, to hurt, to ruin and destroy.

" _You have no idea what you're dealing with_ ," he'd warned.

But you didn't care, you reminded yourself, swallowing thickly as you stood from your desk to walk into the copier room. Cora had walked in there only minutes ago, and since then, another coworker had walked out. You'd waited all week for the chance to catch her alone. And now, it was finally here.

Now, it was time for some answers. And if Hux couldn't give them to you, then Cora was the only person who could.

You could hear your heartbeat battering in your ears as you crossed the small distance from your desk to the copier room. Your heartbeat, and the dying echo of Kylo's last warning to you:

" _If you keep sticking your nose where it doesn't belong, I promise you, you won't like what you find_."

You took a deep, shuddering breath, and stepped inside.

She was at the copier, working on a scan. Her back was to you, and she didn't turn when you walked into the room. You thought about clearing your throat. But would that be too awkward, or too demanding? You decided against it, and fighting the dryness in your throat, said aloud, "Cora?"

She didn't turn, but you could have sworn her body went more rigid, if that was possible. You'd never seen a more high-strung looking woman—not in a way that was unkind, however. Despite her beauty, she was a woman who looked perpetually like a deer caught in the headlights. You could tell she was stressed whenever you saw her. So you wondered at what point she'd remembered meeting you at the gala nearly a year ago, knowing that you were involved with Kylo with nothing more than a glance.

"Cora," you said again, raising your voice a notch.

Her chin tilted just-so over her shoulder, and she eyed you only for a moment before turning back to the copier. "Can this wait?" she asked. "My day's a little packed."

You closed the distance between you and her, leaving a few feet in between. "I just had a few questions I wanted to ask you."

"If you have questions, you should ask Grace," she said shortly. "She can help you better than I can."

"It's actually about Kylo Ren."

Finally, the tension in the woman snapped, and not in a way you'd ever seen—not in her. She was so rigid and bottled up, you simply couldn't have imagined her breaking. But now, you didn't have to; she slammed down the papers she was scanning, seized your wrist, and yanked you deeper into the copier room, down in between the stacks of filing cabinets, tall enough to nearly reach the ceiling. It wasn't unlike how Kylo had dragged you in between the stacks at the library months and months ago. Both were desperate for cover, for privacy.

She looked over her shoulder as if she was petrified of being caught, eyes somewhat wild, mad with fear, as she grasped your hands in her own.

"Listen to me," she said in a low voice, turning her eyes back to you once she'd decided the coast was clear. "I don't know how far it's gone, but I told you to do one thing," she snapped. "Stay away from Ren."

So she _did_ remember you.

"It's over!" you cried in response. She grasped you tighter, and shushed you with a ferocious hiss, eyes pleading. "It's over!" you repeated in a whisper. "It's over between us."

She cocked her brows at you. "Is it?"

You chewed on the inside of your cheek. "Well, it was, but-"

She unclasped your hands to hold up a palm, and you fell silent in an instant.

"Listen to me," she muttered. "I can't know about this. And more importantly, you can't talk about this. You have no idea what you're getting into. Kylo...some of the people in this industry...they're cutthroat. There are people in our circle who care about nothing but money and power, and you'd be surprised to know how close to you they are at all times. They're everywhere. And if they found out about whatever happened between you and him-"

You opened your mouth to protest, to lie, maybe, but she held up her hand again.

"No one can find out about this. Even talking about it now, with me..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked over her shoulder again. You were alone. "Just trust me. You're going to get wrapped up in something you don't want to get wrapped up in. So please, I like you, and I respect you, but please, for both of our sakes-- stay away from Kylo. And above all else," she dropped her voice, staring desperately into your eyes. "Stay away from Bazine Netal."

You furrowed your brow, and she dropped your hands. Then, she was gone, as quickly as she'd dragged you into the stacks. She left you in silence, left you wondering only one thing—what the fuck had you gotten yourself into?

Your mind was racing when you returned to your house. Rose was at a conference this week, and Poe was already preparing for midterms. The night at Canto Bight had been your last outing with your friends, and you already missed them. But at least now you had something else to dwell on.

You didn't even know who Bazine Netal was, but you had to admit the name sounded familiar. Not familiar enough to place.

You shook it off. For the time being, it was all you could do. You ate dinner and settled down on the couch, and around that time, you heard a knock at the door.

When you opened it, you were stunned to see a tall, lean figure with blindingly red hair standing before you. Hux looked cozy—too cozy for the end of summer: his regular tweed jacket, long pants, and dress shoes.

"Hi," you said dumbly. Of all the people to show up on your doorstep, Hux was near the bottom of the list.

He gave you a tight smile. "May I come in?"


	36. The Hate I Feel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stood rigid and tall, jaw set, looking somewhat urgent, which was surprising, because lately, he’d been nothing but frustrated with you. Your mind was instantly so bombarded with questions that you couldn’t identify any of them individually. They swam in your brain, an overwhelming hodgepodge of confusion. Then settled in the panic. Kylo was on your doorstep. 
> 
> And Armitage was on your couch. 
> 
> “Oh, good,” you deadpanned. “We’re all here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS!!! I am emotional AF because there are only 7-8 chapter left! But they will all be heavy and LONG. So wait times will likely be longer, but you'll also be getting denser chapters as everything finally unfolds. I am so excited and so emotional. I am also thinking about playing with the POV for a chapter or two, just to look at things at a different angle, and to make us feel all of the feelings. 
> 
> NOTES ON THIS CHAPTER:  
> For legal reasons, don’t be friends with faculty and teachers, it’s kinda weird and I felt kinda weird writing this so sorry if it’s yucky. 
> 
> But also Hux.

  
"Do you want some tea? I'm sure you won't like how I make it," you warned. "I don't have any of that fancy British stuff."

"I'm sure whatever you have is fantastic," Armitage offered with a smile, lowering himself into the armchair. You returned a few minutes later with two mugs of Tazo tea you'd stuck in the microwave. You watched him carefully as he took his first sip, and pretended not the notice the distasteful face he made, snickering silently into your own drink.

Armitage held his mug in his lap after taking a larger than necessary sip, probably for your benefit. He smiled gratefully at you, warmly, even. But you noticed how he pensively ran his fingers over the thin, porcelain handle, thumb and index finger stroking it lightly. "What I'm about to tell you is probably extremely out of line," he forewarned. "Actually, I think it probably means I deserve to lose my job."

You felt your brows knit together, suddenly feeling a bit anxious. "Well, you can speak freely here; I promise you that."

He sighed, leaning forward in his seat—leaning towards you. "When I told you that I thought it would be best to sever ties...I hope you know it wasn't personal."

You shook your head, showing him you knew. "I completely understand. And the last thing I want to do is cross any boundaries, or make you feel like you're unable to do your job."

He nodded slowly. "If I'm being honest...I enjoyed talking with you the way we did. And of course, if you'd rather keep those ties severed, I would completely understand, and honor your wishes. And while I regret having gotten involved in whatever was going on last year between you and a certain professor, that certain professor is gone now, and no longer under my jurisdiction. That being said..." Armitage was looking at you solemnly now, his eyes penetrative and unmistakably kind. "I've come to care for you as a friend. I only wish to see you succeed, and support you in any way that I can."

You looked at Armitage carefully. You could remember thinking of certain teachers in the past, how inappropriate it seemed to develop even platonic relationships with students. Teachers who thought of their pupils as friends had always rubbed you the wrong way. But Armitage wasn't a teacher, and there was no need to remind yourself of your relationship with Kylo.

And the two of you were so close in age. Had connected on such an intellectual level. And Finn, Rose, and Poe were, in many ways, your entire world. But ever since you'd spoken with Grace, friends were seeming more and more like a godsend than anything else.

"I honestly feel the same way," you told him, giving him a warm smile. "As long as you won't feel guilty about being friends with a student."

"I think we connect strictly on an intellectual level," he said, as if he could read your mind. "And I think perhaps those relationships are the most valuable of all."

Grinning, you gave him an approving nod.

"So...how are you, then?" he asked.

You sank back on the sofa. "My grades are dropping," you admitted. "Which makes it unlikely that I'll get Outstanding Senior."

"What grades?"

"I got a 'c' on my last Bibliography and Methods of Research assignment."

"And?"

"Well, that's it, but who knows what else I've managed to fuck up in the past week?"

"It's one assignment," he told you earnestly. "And even if it wasn't, what you're doing at the Bulletin is entirely impressive on its own."

"I just feel like I can't handle it all."

"I know that you can."

"I'm trying. But I'm not making things easier on myself."

Armitage was silent for a few moments. "Have you seen him again?"

You nodded. "A few times." He could interpret that however he would. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"I could never think you're an idiot," he replied. "I can only doubt your judgement, at times."

You grinned, opening your mouth to thank him. But before you could get the words out, there was another knock at the door. "Looks like I'm popular tonight," you told him, standing up from the couch to walk over to the entrance.

You couldn't believe your eyes when you saw who was standing on the porch in front of you. Armitage showing up was strange enough. But this?

He stood rigid and tall, jaw set, looking somewhat urgent, which was surprising, because lately, he'd been nothing but frustrated with you. Your mind was instantly so bombarded with questions that you couldn't identify any of them individually. They swam in your brain, an overwhelming hodgepodge of confusion. Then settled in the panic. 

Kylo was on your doorstep.

And Armitage was on your couch.

"Oh, good," you deadpanned. "We're all here."

His brow knit together, and he sidestepped you before you could step out of the way to let him in. You stumbled back, stunned, and watched in silence—watched as Kylo's eyes found Hux, the mug in his hand, his coat slung over the back of the living room chair.

You couldn't move when it happened. It was too much for your brain to process, and it all seemed to play out before you in intense flashes: Kylo lunging forward, seizing Hux by the collar of his shirt and throwing him against the wall.

"Kylo!" you screamed in protest, watching in panic as Kylo's forearm braced Hux's chest, fingers clenched around the collar of his shirt. Was his fist trembling?

"You have about three seconds to tell me this isn't what it looks like," he growled over his shoulder, eyes now falling on you. They looked impossibly dark, somehow darker than you'd ever seen them, and you felt your stomach turn into a heavy pit.

"Whatever you think this is doesn't fucking matter to me," you growled in response, heart battering. "Now let him go before I make you."

His lips, tense and scowled, twitched in fury before finally, he lowered his arm, not before giving Hux one final shove against the wall for good measure.

There was a tense, unbearable silence as Armitage and Kylo stared at each other, and you looked at both of them, hatred coming off of their bodies in waves, filling the room to ever corner and crevice.

"We need to settle this,"

Both men turned to look at you. You looked at Hux apologetically. "Armitage..."

He glanced at Kylo. "Are you sure? I don't want to leave you alone with him if-"

"I'm sure," you replied in a small voice. Suddenly, you didn't feel very deserving of his friendship after all. "I'll talk to you soon. I promise."

You kept your gaze cast to the floor until Hux left your home. Then, it was just you and Kylo. Whatever demented game he was playing was finally about to come to an end.

"How did you find my house?" you asked him.

Kylo set his jaw to the side. "Your HR paperwork."

Your own jaw dropped to the floor. "You...Kylo, that's so fucked up. You have no right!"

He said nothing.

"See-- this is exactly what I mean!" you shouted. "You said on more than one occasion, might I add, that we'll never be in a relationship. So I'm having a hard time understanding what you think gives you the right to act like some overprotective, controlling, deranged boyfriend! Using your position to find out where I live. Coming to my house. Telling me 'this better not be what it looks like' when someone else is here? Get fucked, Kylo," you said, marching towards the door and wrenching it open, gesturing for your desire for his departure.

"You want me to go?" he challenged. "Or do you want to settle this?"

"Why are you here? What is it that you want from me?" you asked, exhausted.

"I think we want the same thing," he responded. "Peace."

"Peace," you laughed bitterly, slamming the door in defeat. "I can't even imagine what that feels like. Not since meeting you." _Not since you lef_ t, is what you meant.

"I can't either," he responded. Voice dripping with...bitterness? Frustration?

You furrowed your brow.

"So you came here because you wanted peace from me. What exactly do you want me to do? You made your choices."

"I know I owe you answers," he said.

"You could say that," you scoffed.

"So what is it you want to know?" he asked, voice gravelly. "What can I tell you that will make you..." His voice trailed off and he shook his head, casting his gaze to the side. You kept your eyes on his skin, watched how the shorter ends of his hair grazed his cheekbone, and the longer ones grazed his jaw. You clenched your teeth as you spoke.

"That's why you're here? To give me answers?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"What do you mean why?" he sneered, eyes snapping back to yours. "I thought you'd be pleased."

"So you came here to please me, then."

Kylo opened his mouth to speak before snapping his lips shut, exhaling hotly through his nostrils. "Do you want to discuss this or not?" he snapped.

"Fine."

" _Fine_."

You paused, thinking. This was more than Kylo had ever given you before, and you were intrigued, despite being suspicious of his motivations. Asking him if he was responsible for his father's death was probably too strong of a place to start. But his arrival was well-timed, considering what Cora had warned you about earlier that day.

"At Canto Bight," you began, "you told me that I was dealing with someone dangerous. Like being with you is dangerous. And today, Cora told me that there are people you know that are dangerous. People at the Press. Who's Bazine Netal?"

You wouldn't have thought it was possible, but somehow, Kylo seemed to grow stonier. His teeth clenched set so tightly you could see the veins grappling beneath the skin of his jaw. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, almost like he was expecting this.

"Bazine is the talent director at the Press. I'm surprised you haven't heard of her."

"And she's dangerous?"

Stiffly, Kylo nodded.

"Why?"

He didn't say anything. His eyes darted to the side, almost like he was looking for a last-minute escape. He wouldn't get one.

"What did you do?" you pressed.

"I slept with her."

"You sl- you..."

You took a step back, heart plunging into your stomach, waves of uneasiness rolling through your veins. You knew...you just knew that in the past six months, Kylo wouldn't have been celibate. You hadn't been, so how could you possibly hold it against him? But hearing it, hearing it with your own ears...

"Okay, so...what?" you stammered. "It- am I- are you dating her? Are you cheating on her with me?"

"No," Kylo said heavily. It wasn't until you heard him speak the word that the weight of what he was saying settled in. And suddenly, you felt light.

Talent director. Sleeping with Kylo.

"You...you slept with her," you muttered, "to get the job?"

"No," he replied quickly, taking a step forward, but leaving space in between you, like you were delicate, and coming too close would suffocate you. "No, when I took the job, I was with you." Kylo's eyes were wide and sincere, swimming with home, which was something completely unrecognizable on him.

You turned away from him.

"It was months after things ended between us" he said—quickly, again. "I held her off for a while, but she pressed me, and I knew if I didn't give her this, then I'd have to give her something else. I was long gone by then. After I left...I didn't have anything to lose anymore."

You turned around. Kylo's brows knit together in confusion when he saw you. Because to both of your astonishment—you weren't angry. You weren't sad. You weren't crying.

You were laughing.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to control yourself. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you gasped. "You're telling me...that THE great literary academic Kylo Ren," you mocked, "fucked the talent director to land his job?"

Kylo went red, clenching and unclenching the fists at his sides. "No," he snapped. "I was offered the job months before, and didn't take it. I only slept with her to secure the position once I'd changed my mind."

You nearly doubled over, cackling. "Holy shit. I can't believe this. Everyone always says how naturally gifted you are. They talk about you like you're some kind of literary god. But the only reason you have your job is because you _fucked the hiring director_!" you enthused. God, you were sick to your stomach but even so, this was the most thrilling news you'd heard in your life.

Kylo lunged forward, only stopping when his chest brushed against yours and instantly, the smile dropped from your face. "Do you think this is funny? Do you not understand why this puts you in danger? Think, [Y/N]; you're a smart girl," he sneered, voice so condescending that it caused you to grow so cold, no one would have thought that just moments ago, you'd been laughing.

"Don't condescend me, Kylo," you spat through gritted teeth. "You brought this on yourself."

"Listen to me," Kylo murmured darkly. "Bazine is not...sane. She's not in this business for the same reasons you are. She doesn't have passion for the craft like you do. She's in it because at her level, it's profitable, and in her position, she has power over everyone and everything that exists within the walls of the Press and all its associated branches. That means you."

"Me?" you breathed. "Why would she care about me?

"Think about how a normal person would react to an executive sleeping with an intern. We'd both be fired, and it's not likely we'd be hired anywhere else for the foreseeable future. Now think about if Bazine found out. She'd see it as a challenge, and she'd take it upon herself to personally ensure that you'll never have a career to rebuild at all." Kylo took a deep breath. "I only want you to be careful."

"You've never wanted me to be careful before."

"You've never been in danger like this before!"

"And who's fault is that?"

Kylo rounded on you, taking a step forward, eyes darkening as he stared down at you, chin tilted towards your lips, mouth so close to yours that you could see the wetness glistening off of it. And God, you wanted to lean in...

"Be smart about this," he warned, his voice a low purr. How could he manage to be so desirable when warning you about something so bleak? When warning you that you were in danger? And why on God's green earth did you still want him?

"Why are you telling me this?" you asked him. You realized your voice wasn't above a whisper.

"Because I want you to be safe."

"No," you answered quickly. "That isn't true. You came here because you wanted peace. Because you wanted something from me. What is it?"

"I don't..." he muttered, shaking his head. His eyes flickered downwards. You tried to ignore how they seemed to settle on your lips.

"Tell me," you breathed. The air between you was so hot, it was stifling, and you felt like you were suffocating. Felt like you were being smothered by nothing other than hot, tense pressure. You were in agony.

"I can't stand the thought that you might hate me."

"I do hate you."

"No," he murmured. "I don't think you do."

You clenched your jaw. You wanted nothing more than to reach out and strike him: a punch, or a sharp slap to the face. But you knew the gesture would crumble in thin air, and the moment your hand reached his skin, you'd only have the strength to draw him close against your lips.

"I've never hated anyone the way I hate you," you spat.

"Maybe that's so." Kylo brought up a pale hand, fingers unfurling to gently stroke the ends of a cascading piece of hair against your chest. You held your breath. "Maybe that's why what we have is so special. Whether it's blessed or cursed, I can't say anymore. I know you may hate me, but I know that hatred isn't the only thing you feel towards me."

You exhaled hotly. It felt like steam. You knew that you'd told Kylo once that you loved him. And you knew that you couldn't take those words back, even though you wished more than anything that you could. The only hope was convincing the both of you that you didn't feel it anymore.

"I'll never say it to you again," you hissed. _I'll never say 'I love you,' again._

"Maybe," he pondered. He was so focused on your lock of hair, that when his eyes finally flickered up to meet yours, you stopped breathing altogether. "Maybe you don't have to."

It was over, then. You came together like magnets, lips crashing, bodies sealing against each other, and entanglement of reaching limbs, desperate to feel, to hold. His lips were wet and depraved and you figured that yours were too, because you'd never felt more like you'd needed another human.

Your shirt came off in the living room, his in the dining room. You wrestled with the remainder of each other's clothes as you stumbling up the stairs, hands fighting and tearing, lips only coming apart when something had to be removed, only to crash together once again as soon as it was possible.

You yanked him into your bedroom, bra long having been discarded in the hallway. It was dark save for the small desk lamp. He looked like a god in the blackness. He shoved you onto the bed, yanking down your shorts and underwear before shoving his own pants down his hips. He crawled on top of you then, wasting no time before sinking deep inside of you.

You gasped at the intrusion but with a few rough thrusts, he was coated in your slick, wet heat. Your hands grasped him around the back, nails sinking deep into his shoulder blades. He grunted as his hips found a steady rhythm but his breath was erratic. He moved quickly, and you rolled your hips upwards to meet every thrust halfway, desperate to feel him deeper.

He groaned, rolling onto his back, hands lurching forward to find your waist, pulling you on top of him. You straddled his hips and sank down onto his length, moaning as you began to ride him. Your eyes were closed in the throngs of your pleasure, you realized, or partly because you were afraid to look at him, perhaps. You opened them , staring down at his face. Just barely, you could make out his eyes in the low light. They slowly roamed the length of your body, drawing from your chest only to land on your face. He gripped your waist, teeth sinking down on his lower lip.

"Touch yourself," he breathed.

You obeyed at once, hand flying to rub furious circles over your clit. It exploded with heat at once; you were so worked up that you knew you wouldn't last long.

Then, silence. Nothing save for the sound of skin meeting skin and Kylo's rough, ragged breathing. A sound you could listen to forever.

"Kylo," you whimpered. "I'm already close,"

"Fuck," he choked.

The searing heat started in your belly and exploded outwards. You could feel it in your limbs as your whole body trembled through scorching waves of pleasure, crying out loudly as it all overtook you. Kylo thrusted through it, hips snapping upward to meet yours until he, too, was falling over the edge, yanking you downwards as he came, chests flushed, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he thrusted through the aftershocks of your shared orgasm.

You rolled off of him as soon as your mind and body came back down to earth. You were walking a dangerous line sleeping with someone you were trying to convince yourself you didn't love, already making things that much harder on yourself. Ever since coming to the Bulletin, you'd slept with Kylo a fair amount of times. But you never let him hold you afterwards, and you never held him. Not anymore.

Kylo sat up. For the first time—that night, and also, ever—looked around your room. This was new. Kylo in your place of residence was a first in itself. Even when you were "together," you'd only ever been together at _his_ home. In fact, you weren't sure you could picture him anywhere other than a classroom, his office, or his luxurious brownstone. Seeing him in the dim lamplight of your tiny bedroom, full of old, scratched hardwood floors and roughly painted walls felt like something out of a dream. You wanted to hate seeing him like this. Seeing him here—with you. Where you lived, maybe where you belonged.

But you didn't hate it. So you could only hate that part of yourself that was betraying you.

"Are you back at your brownstone?" you asked him.

Kylo laid down on his back. You laid next to him, not daring to come close.

He nodded. "I am. I was staying at a rental downtown for a few months. I didn't like it."

You nodded, too. Stiffly. It was good to know that that part of your relationship wasn't gone. That maybe he still thought of you. Maybe, once in a while, he ran into your ghost in his kitchen, his study, his bedroom.

"Come here," he murmured.

"No."

He muttered your name. Your heart sank a little.

Slowly, you moved to drape yourself across his chest. At once, you sighed. "Just this once."

It felt like a relief.

It felt foreign, lowering yourself to rest across his chest, feeling his hand coming to the small of your back and holding you there lightly. You almost couldn't allow yourself to draw him close, and laid their rigidly and tensely, as if relaxing your muscles meant relaxing all the walls of caution and distrust that you'd spent months building and building and building. But soon, the tired ache that settled in your bones forced you to ease against his body. Surely, nothing would happen tonight, and if some of those walls came down as you laid in his arms, you could rebuild them in the morning. Eventually, you were limp against him, moments away from an overtaking sleep. And as you laid with your head against his chest, you realized you couldn't discern the heartbeat you could hear as his, hammering against you, or yours, drumming in your ears.


	37. The Beginning of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hadn’t the both of you had enough? You’d certainly had fill of tormenting Kylo, but now, as you inched closer to the truth, you felt that you’d unearthed something more delicate than you ever could have imagined. What did that mean for you? And what did that mean to him? 
> 
> How much longer were you going to pretend that you weren’t unquestionably and wholly in love with him? 
> 
> Your eyes closed, fingers tightening around the leather curve of the steering wheel. 
> 
> Enough games. Enough secrets. And perhaps most of all, enough denial. 
> 
> One way or another, it was time for this to end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are in the home stretch, you guys. About 6 chapters to go. Possibly 1 or 2 more if they get too long. Pals...thank you for reading. Thank you for coming along for the ride. Thank you for getting invested. Thank you for voicing your opinions. Thank you for liking it. Thank you for maybe not liking it sometimes. Thank you for being patient with me. Thank you for caring so fucking much. I really didn’t ever dream that anyone would. I owe you guys so much, and I love you deeply.

He hadn't realized he'd run out of patience until that bridge had long been crossed. By the time the younger of the two gentlemen had risen out of his armchair, gripping his glass of whisky so tight that it was a wonder that the glass didn't shatter in his large hand, he was a lost cause.

The older man knew. He could see it in his son's eyes. Somewhere along the course of the conversation, somewhere along the line, they'd reached the point of no return. There was no point reasoning with Kylo when he reached this state. His father knew that he would be furious past the point of reason until he wasn't. When he was just a boy, sometimes, it had taken days. Now, more generally, it seemed to take months, if Han was lucky.

How had a pleasant conversation over two glasses of whisky gone so sour?

"I've had enough," Kylo spat, confirming Han's suspicions.

There was nothing he could do but start from scratch on another day.

"Ben-"

"I don't want to hear it," Kylo snapped. "I don't want to hear about how Mara and Luke want me home," he spat, with as much venom as he could muster. "I don't want to hear about how you and mother had no choice but to send me away. I don't want to hear you defend yourself like you weren't a failure of a father. I want you out of my fucking sight," he growled, turning away. Where had the old man left his keys, his wallet? Kylo searched for them madly, grateful to have something to look for, something to focus on. If Han saw him, saw his face, saw the tears welling...

Kylo wished there was a way to punish himself. Such weakness, and in front of Han, at a moment like this...it was unacceptable. Pathetic.

There was so much he hated about his family, but in moments like this, it was himself who he hated all the more.

Kylo ignored his father's protestations as he ripped up the man's wallet and car keys from the kitchen counter, taking the liberty of leading the way to the foyer. To the front door of the apartment, more notably.

Kylo ignored the fact that it was paid for by his parents' wealth as he threw his father out.

He stood at the door tensely as he waited for his father to enter the room. Too slowly, he did. Kylo wanted him gone. He wanted out from under the gaze of the man. Whether Kylo had failed him, or it was the other way around, he didn't have it in his heart to unravel, and it might have stirred up an answer he couldn't admit. Nothing was more unbearable than standing before his father, a man who now wanted a relationship after exiting his life as a child.

Han stood dejectedly at the door as he stared up at the son. What a man he'd becoming. There was so much pain inside of him, but still, so much good, too, hidden beneath. Han ached for the boy.

"Your mother and I have always loved you, Ben. More than you know."

The glass in Kylo's hand did shatter, then. He flexed his fingers, the only indication of the pain from his sliced palm existing in a slight tensing in his jaw.

"Out," Kylo ordered, good hand outstretched with the wallet and keys.

"Son..."

Kylo chucked his father's belongings at the door. The hit the ground beneath it with a defeated clatter. Kylo took his leave back into the parlor, broken glass crunching under his shoes as he went. He sat down in his chair. He listened for his father's leave.

He would leave.

He always did.

Always had.

Eventually, he did. Kylo heard the door open, and shut, knocking back another glass as he listened to his father disappear once again. And then, everything was silent and empty.

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

You were clinging to him in your sleep.

You didn't realize until around dawn, when you awoke to the feeling of his body gently sliding out from underneath yours, like he was trying to keep you from waking. You were too close to him, held him too tightly, and rather than address the way your limbs entangled with his, rather than confront the way your body screamed, _I love you_ in its sleep, you pretended that you hadn't woken up. You lied there with your eyes closed, listening intently, ears recognizing the slide of metal on wood as Kylo dragging his watch up from the end table. The gentle brush of skin and soft clicking indicated that he'd refastened it around his wrist.

And then, there was nothing. Only for a fleeting moment, but it was there: still silence. Nothingness. Emptiness, before you heard him turn from the room, leaving you to sleep.

You hadn't experienced this agonizing of a weekend since Kylo had left you in the first place, months ago. Rose was back home, but she'd shut herself up in her room to focus. With midterms drawing nearer, study sessions with Finn and Poe weren't an option, because admittedly, there was generally no studying actually involved.

That left you alone once again.

You had half a mind to reach out to Hux, but seeing as you'd more or less kicked him out to air things out with Kylo (and you were sure Hux wasn't fooled) you felt that maybe you should leave him be.

Maybe you had this time alone for a reason.

But as Saturday dragged along, it ate you up. Late afternoon came around, and you didn't feel any better. You felt more full of questions than ever before, but without the spirit of wanting to fuck with Kylo for the sake of fucking with him. For the sake of hurting him like he'd hurt you. It was different now. Something else was in reach, something different entirely.

You couldn't believe what you were doing, but flinging open your laptop, you searched your email for the company contact list. This might have been a horrible idea. It might have been fruitless. But you had to try.

You simply had to try.

You recognized Cora the instant you saw her street-park her car and climb out of it from the other side of the window. The vehicle appeared to be just about as luxurious as her hair, her makeup, her nails, and her wardrobe. She had a way of making you feel wildly insecure, likely due to the fact that not only did she look like a supermodel, but she'd been with Kylo, too. She looked entirely as put-together as she always did, albeit a bit irritated to be meeting you, which was understandable, especially on a Saturday. Still, you couldn't help but inwardly snicker at the massive sunglasses that shielded her face under the overcast sky, like she expected to run into Bazine just for the sin of meeting with you.

She said nothing as she sat down across from you at the small, wooden table. She didn't remove her sunglasses.

You smiled uncomfortably.

"I ordered us both some iced chai lattes," you offered.

"I don't drink caffeine after 2:00 p.m. and I don't drink dairy at all."

"Oh..." you murmured. "Well, I'm happy to get some appetizers for the table."

"Let's just make this quick."

You leaned back in your chair. You understood the irritation, but if she was going to be vile, it wasn't as if you'd forced her to come.

Cora seemed to sense your distaste. She sighed, pulling off her sunglasses, and leaned back in her chair too. "Fine," she said. "I'd like some fried vegan cheese sticks. Look, I'd just like to make this quick," she repeated, lowering her voice. "It's not personal, I just..." her voice trailed off, and she actually looked over her shoulder.

"You're really that afraid of Bazine?"

"You should be, too," she told you.

You ordered her friend vegan cheese sticks, but got to business quickly.

"Thank you for meeting with me. I know it's inconvenient. But, I just...I can't take this. Cora, I know you know about his father. I need...I know it's not my business, but please. I need you to tell me."

Cora pulled herself away from you as you leaned across the table. She looked at you solemnly. "That's not my story to tell."

"Cora--"

"You're still with him, aren't you?"

You sighed, letting your eyes fall shut in defeat.

"Are you being careful?"

"Yes," you offered. "He warned me about Bazine the same way you did."

"At least he's not a complete idiot," she murmured. "Look...if he doesn't want you to know about what happened to his father, then there's a reason for that. And if he ever decides he wants you to know, then you'll want to hear it from him."

"He won't tell me. He won't tell me anything other than the fact that he will never, ever be with me because of his family. How is that...how is that fair?" I pleaded. "How is it fair that he gets to tell me that we'll never have a chance, but I'll never get to know why?"

Cora was silent, lips tightly pursed, for a few heavy moments before she finally spoke. "You're actually in love with him, aren't you?"

Your eyes clamped shut, the fight going out. Even still, that wasn't a question you were ready to face.

"I can't do this," you told her. "I can't do this without knowing."

Cora sighed, looking over her shoulder one last time before crossing her arms over the table and leaning close to you. "I know that it was an accident. Kylo never meant to hurt his father. He felt betrayed that his parents didn't raise him. I mean, I understand that it wasn't their fault. They spent so much of their time in dangerous parts of the world. Helping people. But I also know if I was in Kylo's shoes, passed off to my uncle every time my parents had to leave, for months at a time, for his entire childhood...I can't imagine it would have been easy.

"That's why he left his family altogether, as soon as he was old enough. After a few years, though, his father came back. It was just before Kylo joined the graduate program. He finally agreed to talk to his father. They'd had a couple of drinks, but it all went south, and Kylo threw him out."

"And?"

"His father never made it home."

You sat stonily in your chair, feeling stunned, waves of uncertainly and confusion washing over you as you tried to grasp what she was saying. You stared blankly at her, waiting for her to tell you that she was lying, that it was all a sick joke.

"It was a tragic accident," she said. "Kylo never meant...he couldn't have known...they were drinking. He was careless. But he just...he didn't think. He didn't mean to. It was an accident. A horrible nightmare of an accident," she whispered. "They say Han could really hold his alcohol. Kylo didn't know he was drunk. He didn't act drunk. Really, he should have been okay, if you think about it. But legally...it turns out he shouldn't have gotten behind the wheel. It was careless, and it cost Kylo's father his life. But I know it wasn't intentional. I knew him too, you know. A long time ago."

She took a shaky breath before continuing. "I was with him not long after it happened. I've never known someone so closed off. Someone so tortured. He used to wake up in the middle of the night. Screaming. Screaming for..." Her voice trailed off. She looked away, blinking rapidly, taking another steadying breath. "I know what you're going through, you know. I wanted so badly for him to love me, but look where loving got him. I know he seems like a monster. In many ways, maybe he is. But I wouldn't say that life has been particularly kind to him."

You didn't eat your share of the vegan cheese sticks. The thought of putting food in your stomach only served to make something roil in your gut. You counted down the minutes until you could leave. And then you thanked Cora, and climbed into your car.

You threw yourself into the driver's seat, but you paused: hands gripping the steering wheel, but your foot heavy on the brake. And you asked yourself where you should go, wracking your mind, trying to figure out where you were meant to be.

You were horrified of him. You were horrified _for_ him. You couldn't imagine the weight of someone's blood on your hands, let alone a father's. They were drinking. And Kylo...he was old enough to know better, to know that his father shouldn't have been driving, but in so many ways, hindsight is everything. Should one careless mistake commit him to a life of misery?

You ached for him.

Hadn't the both of you had enough? You'd certainly had your fill of tormenting Kylo, but now, as you inched closer to the truth, you felt that you'd unearthed something more delicate than you ever could have imagined. What did that mean for you? And what did that mean to him?

How much longer were you going to pretend that you weren't unquestionably and wholly in love with him?

Your eyes closed, fingers tightening around the leather curve of the steering wheel.

Enough games. Enough secrets. And perhaps most of all, enough denial.

One way or another, it was time for this to end.


	38. Hurt Me Harder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is this the monster you want to see?” He growled. 
> 
> You wished you could have said no; it would have been so much easier if you could have peeled yourself off of the wall, slipped down the stairs, and left the brownstone without looking back. Hell, if you had half a brain, perhaps you never would have come in the first place. Perhaps when he asked you to stay after class months ago, but somehow lifetimes ago, you would have declined. 
> 
> But you didn’t. And you weren’t about to stop now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Wow. Sorry for the wait, but it’s a big one, and I wanted to get it just right. Here's the title drop that no one asked for ;)
> 
> WARNING: HEAVY SEXUAL SLAPPING. For some of us fucking weirdos, this is a tool for arousal. If that is triggering for you in any way, please skip this chapter, and EVERYONE please continue to use consent, communication, safewords, and nonverbal safe gestures when engaging in these fun activities! 
> 
> One thing someone pointed out on wattpad is the lack of aftercare after the smut chapters. That person is totally right! In many ways, in this fic, we don’t always see a healthy relationship (uh...obv) which is why it’s been absent. That said, I am including it going forward, because growth, but want to give you a warning that it won’t be present in this chapter because Kylo and Reader’s evening together will take place over 2-3 chapters. So stay tuned. It's coming. And as always, thank you for reading!

It was eerily fitting, the way the rain was coming down as you sped over to Kylo's, barely able to remember the last time you'd been there. But you didn't pay it any mind, even as it battered against your windshield, which was likely in part why you almost crashed your car no less than three times. You were hellbent on reaching your destination—nothing else mattered.

You rapped furiously on the door after you'd sprung the steps two at a time up to his brownstone, and then again when he didn't answer the first time. Finally, after your third sequence of unforgiveable and urgent knocking, Kylo ripped the door open.

He looked irritated to see that anyone was bothering him unannounced. But when he realized it was you, he just looked shocked.

Rainwater dripped from your eyelashes and fogged your vision.

He lifted his brows, evidently waiting for you to speak first, because clearly, he was at a loss to why you were there.

There was a mountain of words you wanted to say to him, nearly a year's worth of questions and confusion, finally answered. But now that you were here, in front of him, staring at him for the first time, the first time since understanding, the words were all fighting their way out at once, tumbling on top of each other, leaping and failing so spectacularly, that not one of them could make it out, and you were suffocating on them. Choking.

So you didn't say anything at all. Shivering from the wet, early autumn air, you stepped inside, instead. Softly, you lifted your chin to stare into his eyes. His jaw clenched, as it always did when you got too close. Not physically close, but emotionally close. When you were clawing your way into his mind. When he wanted to take a step back from you, but couldn't find the strength within himself to do it. When he was searching for relief, lamenting over the possibility of how much easier it would have been if you'd never met.

"I know what happened."

"You'll have to be a little more specific," he clipped. But his jaw was still tense. He spoke through gritted teeth. He knew you knew. You were sure of it. And you were sure of what was coming.

"I know that it was an accident," you breathed. "And I know that you think everyone else blames you. I know you blame yourself." Your voice broke then, but you swallowed thickly, steadfast in your persistence to stay strong. You would have to. You knew this wouldn't be easy. You knew that at the end of this, there was a chance he'd only hate you, whatever he felt for you before reduced to rubble and ash. But still, there was hope. Hope that you could get through to him. Hope that he wasn't gone completely. Hope that you weren't, either.

His jaw slackened, and you half expected him to speak. But he only clamped it shut again—you should have expected it—and exhaled hotly through his nose, nostrils flaring with what you knew was anger or horror or a mingling of both, and so much more. You trembled against the cold, against the wind howling through his open door. You wanted him to comfort you, to draw you against him and warm you against his body. How easily you could fold into him. But you knew that he wouldn't. You knew he wouldn't move, wouldn't give. Because what you were saying to him now was something that no one had ever spoken to him before. You pictured him lying awake on cold, lonely nights when he ached for his family, and your heart shattered at the image. You wished you could have known back then, could have slipped inside the covers and circled your arms around his towering frame, which seemed so much smaller when he curled up to sleep on his side. You'd have kissed the back of his neck and whispered into his ear that it wasn't his fault, and then, perhaps he'd finally sleep in peace.

Finally, you felt like you understood him. Finally, you saw why there was so much anger inside him. Finally, you saw where it had come from, and why it had started out as pain, and at what point it had twisted him up inside.

His jaw trembled. You held your breath.

"You really did it," he breathed, gravelly and cold.

"Yes."

He nodded stiffly, like his bones were slowly turning to stone. You couldn't breathe if you tried as you waited—waited for relief, waited for six months of agony to end, but more likely, you were waiting for the deadly blow.

And that's what came.

With lips inches from yours, it came.

"Get out."

You closed your eyes as he turned on his heel, turned away from you, and climbed the stairs without another look back.

But you didn't come here just to be thrown out. You and Kylo had been doing this dance for far too long. You had tormented him for long enough. He had confused and broken you enough for a lifetime. This ended tonight.

Shutting the door behind you, you started up the steps behind him, racing to keep up with his outrageously long legs.

"Kylo," you called after him. "It's time we talked about this."

"No."

Frustrated, you sighed. "Look, I'm sorry I went behind your back, but you can't defend the way you treated me. You can't treat me like I'm nothing and expect me not to find some answers for myself."

Kylo stopped on the step above you then, turning around to look down on you with so much contempt in his eyes that it actually made your heart freeze in your chest. You'd seen him angry before. But this...this proved that whatever you had witnessed prior to this moment only scratched the surface. "You had, and have, no right to investigate my personal life. I don't know what you think you found out, but you don't know anything. Not about me, and certainly not about my family," he spat. "Now get out."

He turned again. For a moment, you almost considered obeying.

But you weren't half as obedient as you once were.

He reached the landing, and turned down the hall. Without skipping a beat, you followed him into his study.

It was just as you remembered it: dark and draped with navy blues, oaks, and mahoganies. Effortlessly expensive-looking but devoid of memorabilia or personality. Even when you first started to get to know him, it had seemed odd. Now, it all made sense.

"I know that you feel like they abandoned you. I know that you misinterpreted the guardianship of your uncle as your parents trying to be rid of you when in reality, they weren't suited to take you with them on their relief missions. I know that you blame yourself for your father's death and that you want everyone else to blame you, too, because it's the only punishment you'll ever get. I know you, Kylo. I know you don't want to believe that I do, but I have seen every side of you, every angle, from inside and out. I've seen you nearly laid bare, and I've seen you try, and I've seen you almost love me and then rip yourself away because you think you don't deserve to be loved. But you do, Kylo, so please just let me see you, please show me the person that I know is in there, please let me—just— _love_ you, because I _do_ , Kylo, after everything, I love—I _love_ —"

Your breath hitched in your throat as Kylo's fist collided with the space of wall just to the left of your head, sending a framed diploma shooting towards the ground. You swallowed thickly as the glass shattered at your feet, whispers of jagged edges ricocheting off the ground to lick at your ankles, pressing yourself back against the wall in a swift motion of pure instinct.

"Shut up," he roared. The words mingled with hot air, rolling off him like steam, fanning over your face and making you dizzy.

Inhaling on a shuddering breath, you tried your best to steel yourself. You couldn't have been pressed harder against the wall, your body flat and stiff and afraid, as if you were melding into it. His knee was ghosting in between your legs, you realized. You swallowed thickly and lifted your chin. Never once did your eyes leave his, not even when the frame shot off the wall just inches off the side of your head. Was that bravery?

"I'm not afraid of you," you breathed, feeling your legs tremble. In a matter of seconds, the sensation of warmth and wetness pooled between your thighs. Internally, you cursed yourself. "Don't try and scare me away, because it won't work."

He pounded his fist, scowling. You flinched.

"Is this the monster you want to see?" he growled.

You wished you could have said no; it would have been so much easier if you could have peeled yourself off of the wall, slipped down the stairs, and left the brownstone without looking back. Hell, if you had half a brain, perhaps you never would have come in the first place. Perhaps when he asked you to stay after class months ago, but somehow lifetimes ago, you would have declined.

But you didn't. And you weren't about to stop now.

"Yes," you admitted.

In a furious huff of air, he exhaled through his nose. Everything was still and silent. But only for a moment.

Inhaling sharply, you jolted as he brought his fist down on the wall once more, before moving his hand to clasp your jaw. His fingers bore into the cave of your cheek. You eyed him, huffing, wondering if he was going to physically throw you out of his home.

He took it in a different direction.

The way he moved you was effortless, in part due to his strength, but how easily you melted under his touch certainly helped. He forced you around, and your stomach hit the wall with a sickeningly loud smack, his hand gracefully maneuvering to the back of your head, where he roughly laced a fistful of your hair in his fingers.

Your breathing hitched, right cheek pressed to the wall, as your body mounted with excitement. This wasn't what you were here for. You shouldn't be doing this.

The next thing you felt was his free hand on the back of your thigh, dragging upward until he reached your ass. Your heart stuttered in your chest, pulse skyrocketing as he unceremoniously kicked your legs apart.

"You want a monster?" he growled roughly into your ear.

You whimpered.

He pushed your face against the wall. " _ANSWER ME_ ," he bellowed.

"Yes," you dribbled, melting beneath him.

"I'll show you a fucking monster."

You yelped as he yanked you away from the wall by your bicep and flung you to the floor with the regard that one might show a ragdoll. You winced, eagerly, nervously propping yourself onto your elbows as you stared up at him as he descended on top of you.

Kylo straddled your hips, one hand finding your jaw once more and forcing your chin upwards.

"After all this time, you still don't know when to shut that fucking mouth of yours and do what I tell you," he rasped.

Crashing against him was a matter of instinct. Neither of you leaned in first; one moment your lips were apart, and the next, they were violently joined, lips molding and tongues flashing against teeth, only coming apart when he yanked your shirt and forcefully above your head and unclasped your bra, discarding them to the side.

You shivered as you slipped yours fingers underneath the hem of his charcoal-grey tee shirt, sliding upwards. He growled at the touch, losing patience, and in a motion so swift it was entirely sexy, he pulled it over his head with one hand, tossing it aside.

Without a whisper of gentleness, he forced you down onto your back before pressing his body on top of yours, smothering you with his expansive frame and lips that seared every inch of your throat. You felt his teeth nick your collarbone and moaned in response, rolling your hips upward.

"No," he growled, placing a hand down on one of your hipbones, locking it in place against the floor. "You don't get to do anything without my permission, do you understand me?"

Mewling and writhing as best you could pinned beneath his body, you nodded.

In a swift, unforgiving motion, Kylo's hand found your neck, and squeezed, jerking your head upwards from below your jaw.

"I said, do you understand me?" he bellowed.

" _Yes_!"

"Good," he growled, voice dripping with contempt, free hand diving towards the belt of his jeans.

You couldn't see him take his cock free from the position he had your head locked in; all you could see was the ceiling. He removed his hand from your jaw to contemptuously yank down your panties and thrust apart your legs. Your breath hitched as he positioned himself on top of you, and finally, when you'd grown dripping and aching, he shoved himself into your cunt.

Noises tumbled from both of your throats; you groaned as Kylo released a deep, gravelly exhale, positioning his hands on either side of your head as he began to work his hips at a relentless and unforgiveable pace. The slapping of his hips against yours sent a deafening ringing shooting through your ears, but the only thing that mattered was the sensation of Kylo splitting you open, both of you drenched in your wetness.

"You're the same little slut I remember," he growled, groaning as he threw his head back. Christ, you wanted to reach out and touch those wavy, obsidian-dark locks of hair. "Always begging to get fucked. Never knowing when to shut your fucking mouth. Little whore," The insults sent shockwaves of pleasure through your pussy, and you whimpered. His hand found your throat again, thumb driving upwards to slip between your lips. Hungrily, you sucked down on it, and overwhelmed from the pleasure of his thick, driving cock, bit down on him. He growled, but didn't stop, staring down at you as your teeth sunk down on his skin.

He wriggled it between your teeth, wedging them apart. "Open your mouth, you—fucking-- whore," he rasped between thrusts. They were growing harder. So hard that it made you ache deep in your belly. But the searing, warm ecstasy in your pussy was so good it was nearly blinding you.

You opened your lips, and he hovered himself above your head, holding your jaw in place as he spat viciously into your mouth. He clasped his hand over your lips as you groaned loudly in response, the pace of his hips brutal, carnal, and undeniably rapturous. You moaned lowly, staring daggers into his eyes as you swallowed him down.

He drew his hand away only to wrap it back around your throat. If your airway was free, you would have screamed at the scalding pleasure building rapidly in your pussy. You could feel yourself growing dewy with sweat, could feel heat pooling in your cheeks and blooming on your chest, could feel your tits bouncing vigorously with every brutal thrust.

He groaned lowly as he watched them, and with one hand still locked around your throat, pulled up his free hand to land a smack directly across your cheek.

You yelped, a strangled, desperate sound, and he only squeezed your neck harder.

"You like that don't you, you little fucking slut," he growled. "Disgusting whore. You like it when I hurt you?" He slapped you again, striking his palm across the same cheek before swiftly bringing it across the other one, too. "I said, do you like it? You want me to hurt you?"

You moaned, the pain blinding you, but the pleasure cemented so deep within you that you knew you'd rather die than stop. You only wanted more, and you'd let him do it all to you. Pain. Pleasure. Euphoria. Agony. Everything. All of it, and all at once.

"I want you to hurt me harder," you strangled through your constricted, dry throat.

Kylo bared his teeth, driving into you with a pace that seemed to be made to kill you. He fucked you relentlessly, and the pleasure was only mounting. You were drenched and you were tired, and you were nearing release. Soon, it would all come crashing down.

Your moans hitched, chest heaving, and sobs began to fall from your throat. "Kylo, I-"

"No," he growled. "You don't get to cum until I tell you that you can fucking cum." He pulled away his hand from your throat, and you gulped loudly for air, sucking in a lungful of oxygen and releasing it on something between a scream and a groan.

"Kylo, please," you begged, feeling yourself inches from the edge. "I can't- I can't-"

"Yes, you can," he grunted, working himself faster, somehow, lowering himself on his forearm. His lips were mere inches from yours, now. His breath was close enough to fan gently across your lips. His body so close that you could smell leather and oak rolling off of him in intoxicating waves.

"Oh, God," you whimpered, opening your legs further to take him deeper.

He shuddered at the maneuver, growling, and capturing your lips in a violent kiss: wet, searing, and senseless.

"I want to hear you beg for it. Beg like the slut you are," he moaned against you.

"Fuck, Kylo, please, I need to cum for you. Please take me, please let me cum on your cock and I swear, I swear--"

He growled lowly, a string of expletives falling off his lips. You were dangerously close. But so was he.

"Cum for me. Cum on my cock, slut," he ordered throatily, voice so breathless that you knew he was tumbling directly behind you.

You clamped your eyes shut and let your orgasm overtake you, arching your back, feeling your legs shake and tremor uncontrollably as you opened your mouth to release a full-bodied scream.

Both of you came in the same instant, Kylo groaning gutturally as he fucked you through ropes of cum, filling you up as you spasmed around his length, your cries filling the room. Your limbs shook, stuttering hands flinging towards his head and yanking down on his hair. He worked his hips through every stretch of his release, pounding you for all you were worth. And too soon, he slowed, finally collapsing next to you.

You were still coming down from your high, body still jolting and shaking through the after-waves of such an unbelievable peak. You felt a large hand rest on your belly. And you knew he was watching you, admiring you as your body fought to steady itself once more. You were flushed, wet, sweating: a sputtering mess, still moaning softly, writhing on the floor, because try as you might, you hadn't been able to make it to the bed. It was pure beauty in his eyes.

He stroked your shoulder until your breathing slowed. Soon, the gulps of air you were swallowing down filled you more steadily. Your bare chest rose and fell more calmly. But your eyes...you could hardly keep them open.

You reached for him in the dark, feeling half blind from pleasure, incoherent, and exhausted. You wondered if you were on the brink of death.

But what a hell of a way to go.


	39. Exile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shook out his fist, likely feeling the pain from punching the wall yet again. He was breathing heavily, wet strands of hair strewn across his brow and his eyes. 
> 
> “I didn’t fucking ask for this,” he shouted. “I didn’t ask for this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I've been waiting for this moment for months.  
> *cracks knuckles*  
> *adds Crylo Ren to the tags*
> 
> Also, there's a fun little star wars easter egg in there. Let me know if you can find it;)  
> ALSO! Countless references to "exile" by taylro swift and bon iver. I've never been a swift fan until folklore. This song just really did it for me, and inspired the title as well as this chapter on the whole. I definitely recommend you listen to it while reading the uh....intimate portion of this chapter.
> 
> ENJOY!!!

There was a noise that wasn't there before, you noticed, still half-asleep. You rubbed your eyes and sat up, noticing how unforgiving sleeping on his study floor really was as your muscles groaned, and as your spine dug into the dense carpet you could tell without a shadow of a doubt that there was hardwood floor underneath it. You propped yourself on your elbow, wincing. How in the hell your biceps in particular managed to get so sore, you weren't sure, but you couldn't put anything past Kylo anymore.

You stood on shaking legs, reminding yourself of a newborn deer, unsteady and trembling. For a split-second you searched around for your clothes but gave up the second you saw the state of the study. Articles of clothing were strewn everywhere; you weren't sure what belonged to who. Books and papers scattered lifelessly across the room, strewn on the floor, lost, from where Kylo had knocked them all down. That damned shattered frame. Lost, broken glass.

You felt your brow furrow as you stepped over the glass to exit the study. The noise, a low, muffled hissing, was coming from down the hall. You followed it, eyes still adjusting to the darkness, as you approached Kylo's bedroom.

The door was open a crack and the lights were off, you noticed, and slipped inside. Once there, the source of the noise was clear: running water. There was a dim light bathing the left side of the room. Slinking along the wall, you came to the master bath, the door opened a few inches, the sound of streaming shower droplets now completely unmistakable.

He was facing away from you, forearms pressed against the stone wall of his shower. Holding your breath, you watched streams of clear water roll down the muscular expanse of his back. He still looked tense, his head bowed forward, breath coming in uneven heaves. Your heart clenched in its cage for him, and you stepped forward. He hadn't bothered to shut the glass door, you noticed, and the water lightly misted the tops of your bare feet.

You weren't sure why he'd needed to exile himself to the shower, but he didn't look well. A part of you hoped you could fix this, believed you actually could. Your biggest fear wasn't that you'd fail. It was that you'd make it worse. Had you? And what had you expected—that you'd come over, you'd fuck, and everything would be as it was before, only better?

You stepped forward, outstretching your arm, gentle fingers, to touch the skin at the small of his back. He must have heard you coming. You couldn't imagine how that was possible; perhaps he had sensed you. It was eerie, the way you and him seemed to be connected. The way your lives seemed to be so impossibly interlaced.

"Don't," he growled over his shoulder.

You froze, only for a moment, but dropped your hand. The last thing you wanted to do was to touch him, not when you didn't know what he was thinking or feeling. Not when you didn't know how mangled he was on the inside. Not when you didn't know how bad it was.

"Kylo," you breathed. "I think we should talk."

"Talk?" he spat, nearly turning around. He stopped himself at the last minute, facing back towards the wall. You could see the way he trembled as he stood rigid and adamant and completely unyielding, as always. "There's nothing to talk about. I didn't ask to talk to you. I didn't ask you to come here."

That was enough to shatter you from the inside out.

Your lower lip trembled, but you lifted your chin nonetheless, trying to trick yourself into feeling strength that wasn't there. Had you completely misread this? You'd thought you were taking a leap. Taking your fate, your fate together, into your own hands. You knew it was a lot, how it could have come across, showing up at his house and expecting answers. But he'd done it to you, so wasn't it only fair? And wouldn't you only have come if you were positive beyond a shadow of a doubt that somewhere deep inside of him, he felt love for you? That he felt _something_?

But maybe "something" wasn't enough. Maybe love wasn't enough. Maybe love was impossible. Maybe nothing about this was possible. Maybe you'd tried all the cards you'd been dealt. And maybe it was time to put them away.

But then, something happened. Just as you were deciding that it was better that you left and never came back, never bothered him again, never let him bother you again either, something happened, something big enough to change everything, maybe the first step that you needed from him.

He turned. Finally, Kylo turned to face you, pressing his back against the wall but hanging his head, exasperated and tired. Thick, long locks of impossibly dark hair hung over, too, shielding his face, but perhaps that was a good thing. You didn't know if you could stomach the expression he wore.

He shook his head.

With his back still pressed against the wall, Kylo brought up a tense arm, fisting his balled hand against the wall so forcefully you feared his bones would shatter. The sound of the weight of his strike reverberated across the room, filling it with a sound that made you wince. From deep within the expanse of his body, he released something between a grunt and a throaty howl. His voice ripped on the way out, and it made you think of rocks and tearing muscle. You held your breath, standing frozen in your tracks. Maybe he needed to punch the wall. Maybe he needed to scream. But what could you possibly do to help him?

He shook out his fist, likely feeling the pain from punching the wall yet again. He was breathing heavily, wet strands of hair strewn across his brow and his eyes.

"I didn't fucking ask for this," he shouted. "I didn't ask for this."

You still hadn't taken a single breath as he slid defeatedly down the wall, legs and spirit finally giving out. Small streams of water sprayed across his body, his face. He didn't seem to care, or even notice. You realized the muscles of your throat were completely constricted by your own tension and stress as you watched him, heart quivering but pulse soaring. You could have sworn it was ready to give out on you altogether. He sat with one leg outstretched, the other bent at the knee, head still bowed low. Face still shielded. Rage still rolling off of him in waves but simmering lowly, now. His breathing began to even out. His voice was low and hoarse when he finally spoke again.

"I didn't ask to love you."

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you exhaled, breath nearly choking you on its way out.

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. In fact, you were sure that you'd misheard him altogether, but that was okay. He didn't need to say it again. He didn't need to clarify. He didn't need to divulge. Not right now. Not tonight. Maybe he never would.

Maybe he'd never be able to.

Maybe it didn't matter.

Silently, you took a step forward, letting the cool water of the shower bathe over you, too, slowly drenching your body. You sank to your knees at his side. He didn't lift his gaze. That was alright, too. You knew, as you drew himself to his level, so close to him, that you would defend him. You weren't sure what there was to defend. He'd exiled himself, years ago, from his own life, his own family. He'd been lost. You knew that. But you were his. Unwaveringly. Nothing, and no one, would ever harm him again.

And he wasn't fighting you anymore.

Slowly, you outstretched a palm, letting it land softly against his cheek. At a gentle, glacial pace, you drew his face back up, bringing his gaze towards yours.

You stared into his eyes, not saying anything. You didn't need to. As he stared back, eyes tired, and swimming with something that wasn't familiar on him, you knew that he understood.

You leaned in, placing a kiss on his lips with a gentleness that you almost didn't recognize in yourself anymore. You half expected him to turn away from you, but he didn't. He stayed still, as if he wasn't sure what to do. As if he wasn't sure what he wanted you to do. He was stiff at first, perhaps wanted to turn you away because not only had he not asked to love you, but that you were positive he didn't want to. But you kept your eyes squeezed shut, keeping your lips and your hand against his cheek gentle and patient.

You loved him. You didn't need to say it; you were showing him. And you waited desperately for the moment he heard you, and sank into you. Somehow, you knew he would. Somehow, you knew it was what was meant to be.

You couldn't see his eyes flutter shut like the wings of a moth, couldn't see the tension leave his body. But you felt him. You felt him sink against you. You felt his lips tremble, and then part, allowing you to deepen the kiss. You shuddered at his permission, moving slowly, pressing your lips a hairsbreadth harder against him, still not enough to be considered firm. But then he moved in, too, lips molding against yours so effortlessly it was like the way you two fit together was pure fate. His palm found your cheek too, and each of you drew yourselves closer to the other. You could have stayed like that forever: your lips pressed to his and your heart finally full of a new hope of the possibility of a future together. Not even a future—just _something_. You balanced on the feeling, never wanted it to leave you.

Kylo pulled away gently, resting his forehead against yours. Your eyes flickered open, staring into his from mere inches away. You took him in as he was: vulnerable and broken and sad, but strong, too, and finally, remarkably, open.

"I can't," he breathed, stroking his thumb across your cheek.

"Kylo."

"I can't," he repeated, clamping his eyes shut and shaking his head. He breathed heavily, opening his eyes again only once he was ready to look at you. "I can't make you do this. You're too good," he strained through gritted teeth, his voice coming out smoother than you'd heard it before, but still tense, still so full of pain and conflict. "You're kind, and you're patient, and you're _good_." His palm stroked the length of your expanse, eyes boring into yours. "You deserve someone better. And I don't deserve you at all."

Your heart clenched for him, breaking at the knowledge that he didn't understand, that he didn't know he was worthy—worthy of love, of happiness. And in truth, it wasn't about what either of you deserved. It was about the truth—that you would love him, unconditionally, regardless of what either of you thought you were deserving of.

You cupped his face with both hands and closed your eyes, holding him against you as if you could wordlessly transfer everything you were feeling, every complex sensation, every agonizing moment you'd experienced without him over the past months, all without saying anything. You pictured all of it, all of it, as if you could pass it on to him.

"You deserve love," you whispered, voice shuddering. "And I love you."

He was silent and still. You shook your head too, forehead still pressed against his.

"You don't have to say anything. I don't need you to say anything else. I just need you to know. I need you to know that you deserve to be loved, and to feel it."

His fingers moved, then--gentle fingers that brushed your hair off your forehead and stroked the side of your face.

Then, he pulled you in again, lips touching yours with more force this time, like kissing you was a release, a cure, home. You sighed against him, twining your fingers in his hair. Finally, you noticed how much more relaxed he felt against your body. And you noticed that you had a chance of happiness together. That finally, the two of you had hope.

Steadily, you swung one knee over his hips, lowering yourself into a straddle on his lap. His hands twisted in your hair, and you moved yours to wrap your arms around his neck. His lips were soft but eager, chest pressed against yours. You felt your heartbeat quicken as you felt his growing stiffness pressed against you. Your pulse skyrocketed, and you shivered, eliciting slow movement from Kylo. He brought his hands down to stroke the length of your arms, as if trying to warm you. You sighed against the kiss, parting your lips to let him kiss you closer, deeper. Gently, his tongue slipped into your mouth. You shivered again as you felt him drag it against your lower lip, swiping inside, swirling with yours, making you go dizzy. If you didn't feel so secure in his arms, you couldn't have been sure you wouldn't have faltered, collapsed.

You lifted your hips to shift against his growing erection, grinding against him with slow, rolling movements. He sighed into your mouth, the vibrations whispering against your tongue. You felt yourself growing flushed and hot. But the water spraying your back was cooling and calming, and Kylo's hands kept you steady.

You deepened the kiss, reaching a hand in between your bodies to wrap your fingers against his length.

"Is this alright?" you whispered against his lips.

Curtly, Kylo nodded, inhaling sharply through his nose as you curled your fingers around him. He was fully hard, but seemed so unlike himself. It was intriguing and filled your heart, and you wanted nothing more than to just exist with him.

Your breath hitched as you lifted yourself up, chest at level with his eyes, as you held him firmly in your hand and lined up the head of his cock at your entrance. You stared down at him. For a moment, his eyes were dead-forward, focused on your breasts, but then, remarkably, he lifted his gaze, focusing it on your face instead, and you looked down at him—lips parted, pupils blown. It took your breath away. His hands were on your waist now, gently driving upwards, stroking up the length of your ribcage.

Your eyes fluttered shut as you rubbed the head of his cock against your pussy, readying yourself. You noticed how his breath hitched as you did so. Your heart fluttered at the little details.

At last, you sank yourself downward, his cock sliding into you with ease as slowly, you lowered yourself down to the base, sheathing him completely, sighing at the sensation of his size filling you. It never grew old, or tiring. Every time seemed to be better than the last.

Your chest expanded with breath as you inhaled, savoring the feeling of your walls stretching around him. His hands, wide, expansive palms, gripped you on either side of your waist, fingers so long that his thumbs rested on your ribcage. You began to move, slowly lifting yourself back up his cock, and he helped you, supporting your body as you gradually found a rhythm, riding him gently to adjust to the sensation, and to ensure that it lasted. Because you never wanted it to end.

Kylo exhaled hotly, air fanning across your face. His fingers tightened around your skin. He helped draw you up and down on his cock. It was pure perfection, pure bliss, and you couldn't help but quicken your pace.

You moved your hips against him while keeping as little distance between your bodies as possible. You wanted to touch him at every angle, every inch, and you didn't want a single sliver of skin to be parted from his. You moaned lowly, heart swelling, as you thought, over and over again, _you're my home. Please let me be yours._

It was becoming more and more difficult to draw steady breath, you realized, inhaling on hitching air as you worked yourself up and down on top of him, and he rolled his hips upward to meet you halfway. And with your hand fisted in Kylo's hair as you jerked your hips, and with Kylo grunting, face buried into the crook of your neck, it became clear to you in an instant that the droplets rolling over your shoulder weren't from the shower.

Your breathing stopped altogether when you heard him inhale sharply and release on a sob. You tightened the arm around his shoulders, holding him firmly against your body, and the fingers in his hair grasped him tighter, curling around his locks, twitching violently from pleasure but attempting to stroke him gently despite the way your body was losing control.

You quickened your pace, working your thighs to fuck him harder, drawing yourself away only to drive the hair out of his eyes with stuttering fingers. Cupping his cheeks, you pressed your forehead to his, thumbs brushing away the tears on his face as you fucked yourself up and down on his cock, moaning his name as you felt his arms, at last, encircle your waist and pull you closer.

His face pressed into your neck as you continued to ride him. You still felt the wetness of tears against your skin, and lazy kisses against your collarbone. You felt your pussy flutter, and your fingers curled into his hair once more, holding him against you. You pressed your cheek to the top of his head as you worked your hips, heat pooling throughout the entire lower half of your body, moans and gasps tumbling from your lips completely unchecked as the sensation began to overwhelm you. Every time his breath hitched, every time he whimpered, you drew him more tightly against you. There was no amount of crying, no amount of tears or pain that would come close to keeping you from him. You let him burrow his face, hide away if that was what he wanted, what he needed. You had this handled. And that was enough.

"I have you," you whispered. "I have you. I have you."

He groaned, lips knowing no rhyme or reason, no process, as they dragged and trailed against your skin, kissing sporadically, warming your neck. His arms tightened around your waist. His cock throbbed and pulsed inside of you. You knew that he was close. You knew that you were close, only inches from spilling over.

You whimpered as you felt an impossible warmth drench your entire body, a sizzling that enveloped you, and your legs began to tremble, throat releasing a long moan as you rode him as quickly as you could, chasing your release, and chasing his.

"Kylo," you breathed, just as you fell over the edge.

You jaw dropped open as it finally hit you—a wave of pleasure so overwhelming that all you could feel was a hot whiteness, Kylo's lips pressed against your tear-stained neck, and his cock that pulsed and released inside of you. Ropes of cum spurted from inside your cunt, and somewhere in the mindless pleasure, you heard him groan, low and loud and raw. Fingers, nails pressing into your skin. Warmth, everywhere. You trembled through your orgasm, releasing a shattering cry as pleasure wracked your body in shudders. His arms were still around your waist. You realized your movements had slowed. Your breathing was hitched and heavy, perfectly in time with his. His fingers trailed along your back as everything slowed, as everything simmered.

You were lost in pleasure, but he brought you back. The familiarity of his fingers trailed your spine. Finally, you settled against him, relaxing your screaming muscles, every slight movement making you wince, every bit of your body sensitive from your second orgasm of the night.

Your eyes fluttered open. Kylo was already looking at you. His eyes were gentle. His cheeks were wet. Your chest was still heaving, but you brought up your hands to cup his cheeks again, thumbs brushing away the wetness.

Then, you leaned in, kissing his cheeks, kissing his eyes, kissing everywhere the tears bad been, to tell him he shouldn't be ashamed, shouldn't hide. Your body was still shaking. He noticed, hands roaming up the span of your back. Both of you—wet and cold to the touch but ignited with warmth on the inside, sat there together, your body still pressed against him, no part of you wanting to move.

He was so close, you realized that you could feel his heart beating against your own chest.

"Your heart's racing," you breathed, placing a kiss under his ear.

"Yours is, too."

You hummed softly as his fingers skimmed downwards against your skin, grazing your lower back. You relaxed against him, resting your face in the crook of his neck. You didn't need to stay like this long, but you also didn't need to move. Not yet.

Your fingers laced back into his hair, stroking him gently, so he knew you were still there. So he knew you weren't done protecting him. 

But the truth was, you'd never be done protecting him. You'd protect and defend him—always.

He wasn't in exile. Not anymore.


	40. Peace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The faucet wasn’t far, but neither one of you bothered getting up to reach it. If the possibility presented itself, you would have chosen to sit there for the rest of your life as opposed to moving: bare-skinned and protected in Kylo’s arms. 
> 
> Bare-skinned and protected and loved. 
> 
> He loved you. 
> 
> Kylo Ren loved you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four chapters to go, you guys. What an incredibly wild ride. Thank you for 2300+ kudos. I just can’t believe it. I’m so overwhelmed and grateful, and I don’t want to finish this story. But let’s do the damn thing together. Love you guys!

The falling droplets of water were music against your bare skin. You'd lost track of how long you'd been sitting on the shower floor; the water had long gone cold, but you felt protected by any and all sensations that life could throw at you.

Your legs were slung over Kylo's lap, your face nuzzled with the crook of his neck. For the longest time, he'd been gently stroking your bicep, and once in a while, his hands would carefully rub your shoulders to warm your skin.

The faucet wasn't far, but neither one of you bothered getting up to reach it. If the possibility presented itself, you would have chosen to sit there for the rest of your life as opposed to moving: bare-skinned and protected in Kylo's arms.

Bare-skinned and protected and loved.

He loved you.

Kylo Ren loved you.

Each time you replayed the words in your head, you could feel your heart swell in your chest, and more than once, you feared it might burst. He'd admitted it in whatever words he could manage, but it was more than you could have ever dreamed of. It was more than you ever expected. More than what you could have ever hoped for.

You nuzzled deeper into his arms, wishing you could burrow your way inside of his body until you were no longer your own being, but a part of him.

He must have thought you were asleep, because he seemed to take your movement as permission to move himself. You felt him pull away from you a little just to look down upon you, fingers finding the side of your face to lightly trail your misted skin.

"Are you alright?" he breathed.

"Of course I'm alright," you whispered, leaning to rest your head against his chest, gazing sleepily up at him.

He cocked his head a hairsbreadth to the side, lightly stroking the length of a strand of your hair between rough fingertips. "You've been through a lot tonight," he pondered.

You'd fallen in love long ago with the expression he was wearing in that moment: brows slightly drawn together, jaw as set and as severe as always, but eyes gentle and inquisitive. Like he wanted to dive into your mind, to understand you further. Deeper.

You cracked a soft smile.

"Physically and emotionally," you agreed.

He nodded, and you almost thought you saw a hint of a smile on his lips, too.

"So have you," you reminded him.

Kylo exhaled through his nose. "You don't know how...difficult it's been for me. To be without you."

You blinked. "I think I have a pretty good idea."

"No," he breathed, shaking his head slowly. "You knew who you were and what you wanted. I had to convince everyone in my life, myself included, that I didn't..." the words trailed off, and Kylo's expression softened as he gazed at you.

"You don't have to say it again," you told him. "I know it's hard. But I don't have to hear it. I can feel it."

He nodded, gaze dropping, like he looked a little ashamed. "I'm afraid," he admitted.

"I know."

But if it was your life's mission to teach that man how to stop being afraid, then it would be an honor you'd devote yourself to body and soul.

Suddenly, he took you by the wrist and stretching your arm out to the side, eyes trailing over your skin.

"Are you checking me for bruises?" you laughed.

He dropped the arm, moving to the other one. "Earlier, I was...I just want to make sure you're okay." His eyes lowered, and landed on your waist. You followed his gaze. The unmistakable redness of the beginnings of bruises peppered the area around your jutting hipbones. His eyes flickered back up to yours, almost looking nervous.

You slung your arms around his shoulders, pulling yourself closer against him. "You know I like when you leave marks. I like having something on me to remember you by when you're away." Your voice dropped to a whisper. Kylo brought up a tender hand, backs of his fingers kissing the skin of your cheek. Only then did you realize how fucking depressing that confession truly was.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered back.

Suddenly, your eyes felt very wet, and something deep and surging was swimming at the base of your throat. Overwhelming happiness, you realized instantly, enough to almost choke you, to make you scared you'd be sick. You felt your lip tremble and cursed yourself internally.

He caught you just as you crumbled, drawing you tightly into his arms, fingers wrapping tenderly in your hair.

He wasn't leaving anymore. It was as if the words alone had wrapped a hand around the dagger sticking out of your chest before finally pulling it free. You sucked in lungfuls of air and let the tears fall, finally bathing in the relief you'd been reaching for for weeks upon months, each one having felt like its own small eternity. He stroked your hair and let you cry, and your hands roamed his arms, partly to make sure that he was real. That he was still with you, that he hadn't left.

"I feel like you've taken my armor off," he muttered against your ear.

If it was possible, you snuggled in closer against him.

"You don't have to keep your guard up all the time," you told him, arms reaching to wrap around his body. "Not with me. I'll always protect you."

Kylo went silent, body relaxing, and the way you fit against his body was nothing shy of perfect, like Michaelangelo himself had sculpted your bodies entwined, and the way you rested there was fated to be.

And you felt love for him with an intensity that was almost overwhelming, knowing in your heart that if a comet hit the earth in that moment, you'd throw yourself in front of him just to defend him for a split second longer.

"Just never leave me again," you breathed, tears spilling over your cheeks.

"I won't," he whispered, fingers trailing against your jaw. "But I will never make you stay, either."

"If you think I'm going anywhere, you have the wrong idea," you answered defensively.

"I know, I just—I can't ask you to...my family, with everything that's happened, everything I've done, I can't ask you to-"

"You know what happened wasn't your fault."

"No," he muttered, furrowing his brow and shaking his head. "I don't know that." He exhaled slowly. "All I know is that I'm terrified I can't give you the life you deserve. I'm so afraid you'll never find peace with me."

"Listen to me," you breathed, face tear-stained and flushed as you stared infinitely into his eyes, palm resting on his cheek. "Being with you gives me peace. Being without you is a life that I don't want. A life that's not meant for me. You deserve to be loved," you repeated. "And I love you, Kylo."

His eyes fluttered shut, breath shuddering on the way out. "I can...can you just..."His hand trembled at the side of your face, like he wasn't sure whether he should touch you or not. "Can you say it again?" he whispered.

Tears and all, your lips tugged into a bright smile. "I love you." You pressed your forehead against his. "I love you, Kylo."

And for the first time since you'd known him, you saw him smile a full-bodied, human smile. Not a smirk, or a smile filled with silence and sadness, and not the ghost of one. This one lit up his entire expression. His eyes wrinkled at the corners. He had dimples you'd never known were there. Your heart swam in your chest and you leaned forward, pressing your lips firmly against him, kissing him until you went dizzy and the water froze against your skin.

You sat there together until the prospect of what time it may have been finally crept into your mind, guilting you into considering the idea of getting some rest. He stood up and took you with him, arms still encircling your frame, releasing you only to reach for a plush towel and slinging it around your shoulders.

You dried quickly, eager to climb into his large bed and cling to him within the soft sheets for the remainder of the night. Kylo wrapped his towel around his waist, and you followed him back into the bedroom.

Naturally, you didn't even make it to the bed in the time that he reached for you again, gently pressing you against the wall, lips searching for yours again. You drew him closer, smiling against his lips. You couldn't help it. You didn't know if you'd be able to stop smiling ever again.

His phone buzzed on the bedside table. He ignored it, pressing himself against your body, capturing your chin in his fingers, forcing your jaw upwards. Your eyes locked with his. Heat pooled between your legs, and suddenly, you forgot how to draw breath.

"I knew you'd come crawling back to me," he breathed, eyes lowering to trail down the length of your scantily clad figure. The words were bold, but he had a mischievous playfulness in his eyes that was new, and in all honesty, more than welcome. You liked the way he smiled. You liked the way he pushed your buttons and teased you, egging you on even though you were already his, and he was yours. His gaze moved unmistakably over the curve of your ass, and he made a show of craning his neck to make sure you knew he was getting an eyeful. Then, his eyes were on yours again. "So, I think I might need to punish you for being so insolent over the past few weeks." He squeezed your chin harder, grinning. You whimpered, squeezing your legs together. 

Your chin was stuck between his thumb and forefinger. Your breath hitched in your throat. So did all the excitement mounting inside of you.

He shut his eyes, and sighed heavily when his phone buzzed again. "I'm sorry," he told you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before pulling away. And the tension died. You sighed, letting the heat and arousal roll off your body, fighting the urge to fan yourself as Kylo stepped around the bed to reach the nightstand. "Could be work. Or family, god forbid," he growled, reaching for his phone.

You exhaled, letting yourself relax against the wall, hands roaming down your thighs. "That's okay," you said blissfully. Honestly, in any other case, you wondered if you had another one in you. With Kylo, naturally, you didn't have to wonder. Even so, you were exhausted and worn.

Each of your senses were on high alert, every whisper of a touch feeling like fire against your skin. You hummed at the sensation, chest heaving, waiting for him to whisk you in his arms and take you to bed.

"Kylo?" You asked, turning to face him with a smile on your face.

Your smile dropped instantly. He hadn't taken his eyes off the screen of his phone. His brow was drawn, his finger hovering over the home button. Immediately, you knew something was wrong.

"Oh no," you breathed. "It's your mother, isn't it?"

He shook his head, swallowing thickly. "No," he choked. "It's my grandmother."


	41. Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Your grandmother?” You sputtered, for the umpteenth time, no less, as you chased after Kylo, who was busy stuffing last-minute items into his overnight bag as he raced towards the car. 
> 
> “Yes.” He responded to you without looking back, tucking in pieces of clothing that suck out of the lip of his bag. 
> 
> “Are you sure we have to go to the airport?” You asked, huffing as you pumped your legs to keep up with him. “I mean...I thought you guys would have a family jet or something.” 
> 
> “We do, but do you see a runway anywhere?” He quipped. “Get in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey fam! So remember when I gave a vague estimate for how many chapters were left? Well, I am here to confirm that chapter 47 will be the end of HMH. I get so emotional just thinking about it, and I am not even remotely ready for it to be over. But let's do the damn thing together.
> 
> And while we're here, I'd like to thank you for 2400+ kudos too. Unbefuckinglievable. You guys are sincerely the best, and I'm so so thankful!

"Your grandmother?" you sputtered for the umpteenth time, no less, as you chased after Kylo, who was busy stuffing last-minute items into his overnight bag as he raced towards the car.

"Yes." He responded to you without looking back, tucking in pieces of clothing that suck out of the lip of his bag.

"Are you sure we have to go to the airport?" you asked, huffing as you pumped your legs to keep up with him. "I mean...I thought you guys would have a family jet or something."

"We do, but do you see a runway anywhere?" he quipped. "Get in."

Without another word of argument, you climbed into the car beside him. You didn't have a change of clothes with you, or any other essentials for that matter. But after everything that had happened that night, there was no force on heaven or on earth that could have kept you from staying by his side. It all made you wonder, though, just how much about his family you didn't know.

There wasn't time to plan or look for a flight. Your best bet was to just show up to the airport and get the earliest ticket you could. As Kylo sped down the freeway, you checked the time. Three a.m. You turned to look at him; his jaw was set and he refused to peel his eyes off the road, even for a second. The dark circles under his eyes were prominent. You'd at least gotten a couple hours of sleep, albeit on the floor of his study. Kylo had been up all night.

You arrived at the airport and got your tickets. The only thing left to do was...wait. And wasn't that always the hardest part?

You found some chairs at your gate after finding something to eat. You curled up next to him, head resting on his shoulder. Finally, you could at least relax for a couple of hours until your plane arrived.

"Do you have any idea what happened?" you asked gently. You didn't want to push him. Not when he was finally starting to open up. But you also didn't want to be willfully ignorant.

Kylo was wearing his infamously withdrawn expression; jaw held tight and eyes unblinking and blank. His chin trembled a little before he spoke, but thank god, he spoke: "She lives with my mother. She's very old." He dropped his gaze to his lap. "It was only a matter of time."

"You never mentioned her. I always thought it was just your mother..." _and your uncle_ , you contemplated.

"I never knew her well," he muttered. "She moved in with my mother after I...after I was already gone. I know that she had a very difficult life. We weren't allowed to talk about it. We were never allowed to talk about her husband."

You furrowed your brow, wondering what had happened, but not wanting to risk pressing him too much. Instead, you settled in closer against him, hoping that both of you could get even a little bit of sleep. Your head on his shoulder, you felt his cheek pressed firmly against your scalp.

You hadn't realized that you nodded off until the flight attendant started to make your boarding announcement, Kylo gently shaking you awake. And to your concern, you noticed that he only looked more exhausted.

"Did you not sleep at all?" you murmured.

Kylo only shook his head, eyes glued to the floor as he stood and gathered his overnight bag, boarding pass in hand. You followed closely behind him, and settled down next to him in first class. You'd never ridden first class before, but Kylo didn't looked phased in the slightest. Either way, you didn't suppose it mattered. The flight was short, and all you wanted him to do was get some sleep.

You reached over to his pod, placing a hand on his arm. "Please try to get some rest."

He was staring blankly at his black TV screen, head pressed against the back of his seat. He shook his head a little. "I can't."

"Please try. Please. Kylo, there's nothing you can do for her right now, but I promise you everything will be okay. Please? For me?"

His jaw loosened a little and finally, he managed a very stiff nod. You were even able to smile a little as you watched him close his eyes, settling back in his chair, maybe even managing to relax a bit.

You didn't let yourself fall asleep, instead electing to stay away and make sure Kylo was getting some rest. Within a few minutes, he'd relaxed completely, and his breathing evened out. You relaxed too, keeping your gaze fixed out the window, determined to stay awake. You were contented enough to know that he was finally sleeping.

After the plane landed, you sought out a rental car before hitting the road. You insisted on driving, which, naturally, Kylo fought you on.

"You only got an hour's sleep on the plane," you argued, snatching the keys out of his grip and opening the driver's side door. "I'm not taking no for an answer."

"You're not even old enough to drive a rental car," he hissed.

"Kylo, can you please just let me help you for once?"

With that, he finally stopped fighting, hesitating only for a moment before climbing into the seat next to you and resting his head against the headrest, giving you directions as you went.

And before too long, you'd finally arrived, pulling into the gated courtyard of a small estate. You gazed with your mouth agape as you stepped out of the car. The house looking brilliant underneath the gleaming sunrise, dew glistening off the grass and flowers of the garden. Cicadas chirped lowly in the distance. If you were here under better circumstances, it would have been an absolutely stunning morning. You ached for him, wishing he could have one easy day, wishing he could enjoy the beauty that was before him.

Kylo wasted no time in approaching the front door, giving it a few impatient raps as you followed him, walking slowly to take in the stunning sights of the courtyard: trees that stretched unbelievably high, green shrubs and giant, ceramic flower pots.

The woman who opened the door found Kylo's gaze in an instant, but realized in the exact same moment that he wasn't alone. Her eyes fell on you next, and she stared directly at you for a good few seconds, mouth slightly opened and face a big question mark. And you quickly came to the conclusion that they didn't know you were coming.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet. You didn't like feeling like you were intruding in any situation. But on his grandmother's death bed?

Before you could turn to Kylo to tell him you were happy to leave, the redheaded woman at the door smiled warmly at you too, before turning back to Kylo. "Is this..."

"This is..." he sighed, the words trailing off. What could he say? That you were his former student? Current employee? Girlfriend? Regrettably, all of them were true. So he settled on your name instead.

The woman's face lit up and ushered both of you inside. You stepped through the threshold, waiting for someone to speak, not feeling that you had the right to say anything at all.

"Well," she said. "You're certainly welcome here, though I wish you were with us under happier circumstances." She gave you another solemn smile. Even with all the heaviness that hung in the air, she had a brightness about her. Brilliant red hair and a warm, wise smile, the woman looked between you and Kylo. "I'm Mara," she continued. "Ben's aunt."

"I'm...I'm so sorry to hear about what's happening. I've heard so much about you...your family."

"You're sweet. We've heard a bit about you, too," she said, eyes crinkling at the corners as she gave you a wink. "Well, I think I oughtta take Ben, here, upstairs," she sighed. "If you don't mind."

"Please, by all means," you responded quickly, throwing up your hands.

She nodded. "Please make yourself comfortable. There's food in the fridge. Water, juice, soda. Make yourself at home. What's ours is yours," she said, rubbing Kylo between the shoulder blades. He looked like he was fighting the urge to shake off her touch, scowled expression focused on the ground. He looked like a grumpy child, and she had a marvelous way of making things feel a little bit light even on such a dark, hollow morning.

"Thank you," you told her, and reached out to brush your fingers against Kylo's. "I'll be here. Take all the time you need."

As you watched them descend up the stairs of the imposing foyer, you watched her lean in close and whisper something into his ear. He nudged her off, again, not unlike a child. You smiled a little as you watched them go.

And then you were alone—in his family's house. And they didn't know you were here. You didn't even know if they knew who you were.

There was plenty of house to get lost in. With Kylo having left you alone, you felt odd at the thought of standing alone in a house that wasn't yours, waiting for an unsuspecting resident to find you, a stranger, stiff as a board, looking rather lost.

Wandering around in a home that wasn't yours should have felt weirder, but you found that your feet were taking you away before you could stop them.

If you'd thought that Kylo's house was nice, then you were in for a rude awakening at the estate. The manor was exquisite; you'd never been an any building even as remotely opulent as this one. The ceilings were high and the walls were draped in elegant colors: oak, navy blue-- cozy shades that seemed to take you back to a different era.

You turned a corner and found yourself in a long corridor, a wooden statue staring at you from the end of the hall. You looked down at your feet; the floor seemed to be marble, almost mosaic-like in the splendor of its immaculate patterns. You felt like you were in Downton Abbey. Most of all, you felt like you were stepping into the past. And your heart swelled at the weight of the realization that this was where Kylo had grown up.

Slowly, you continued down the hall. The walls were lined with portraits, doorways accentuated with wooden carvings. At last, you came to the last room of the corridor. Curiosity piquing, you stepped into it.

You watched as your foot hit a glossy hardwood floor, then raised your gaze to take in the size and splendor of a room. It seemed to be a parlor of some kind, but with the number of books you saw, it easily could have been a library. You held your breath as you admired it.

The ceiling stretched upwards until it formed a dome. There were two levels: and each stretch of the wall was lined with old-looking mahogany book stacks, each one bearing an equally old-looking stone bust. A large, crystal chandelier hung above the center of the room. Plush, velveteen chairs and loveseats sat around a mantle, facing away from you. On the far wall was a traditional fireplace. Above it hung a portrait of a man and a woman. You didn't recognize either of them.

Halfway into the room, you let your feet stop guiding you. You paused in your tracks, gazing up at the large portrait. It had to be decades old; There was a woman, draped in a magnificent yellow sundress, dark eyes, and equally dark auburn curls cascading down her shoulders, nearly reaching her waist. It was done up on the sides with golden nets, draping with purple ribbon.

And there was a man on her arm. Exceptionally handsome, piercing blue eyes, shoulder-length sandy brown hair, a vertical scar that ran the length of the right side of his face, just over his eye...

"They were a handsome couple, weren't they?"

You jumped, cursing yourself, not realizing you hadn't been alone. You looked over your shoulder, weighing the odds; maybe you'd been lucky and come across a housekeeper, and wouldn't be in much trouble for wandering off.

The voice was coming from a large, red armchair, its back facing you.

You furrowed your brow, part of you wanting to run.

But a stronger part of you wanted desperately to know who was sitting in that chair.

Slowly, you rounded on the armchair, until she came into sight.

Her gray hair was drawn into a braid that encircled the top of her head. She wore a gray dress and a cardigan that matched perfectly in color. She sat with her hand over a closed book, looking tired but unmistakable strong, too-- a warm and gentle smile on her lips, so comforting you felt that somehow, you almost recognized it.

Your breath left your body and you sank down into the chair at her side, speechless.

"I know I should be upstairs," she said softly, "but I thought I'd give the kids some time alone with her."

"The kids?"

"Ben. And Luke, when he arrives" she said, giving you a sideways glance, a hint of mischief present in her dark, brown eyes. "I know he looks like an old man, but let's be honest. He's always been a child."

Slowly, you leaned forward, unable to take your eyes off of the woman even if you'd wanted to. Which you absolutely didn't. "You're Leia Organa," you breathed.

She gave you a soft smile, eyes glistening in the lamplight. "And you must be the woman my son has spoken of so many times, but refused to name. I'm glad he's finally come to his senses."

You shifted in your seat awkwardly, feeling enthralled at meeting Leia Organa, but also feeling a little uncomfortable, like you were intruding on a family that frankly, Kylo desperately didn't want you to ever have a place in.

"I...didn't know he spoke about me."

"He visited me only a couple of times when I was ill. But I picked up on a few things. He's a very tormented young man."

You turned back to the painting, eyes settling on the woman. "Is that...is that who's...upstairs?" _Dying_ , you refused to say.

Leia nodded stiffly. "My mother."

"I...I'm so sorry," you said, shifting again, wondering if it would be better if you just waited in the car.

"I'm sorry you have to visit our family on just a solemn day," she told you.

"I don't...I know it must be difficult. To have an outsider here...at a time like this."

This time, she reached over to you, placing a hand gently around your wrist, staring deeply into your eyes. "You brought my son back to me. I'll be expecting you for holidays," she said with a wink. But not even the kindest of gestures or the sweetest of words could lift the heaviness in the air. Not when you knew Kylo was upstairs, kneeling at his grandmother's bedside.

"I never knew he had a grandmother," you confessed. "He spoke of you...and of his father, eventually. And his uncle, a little. But never about anyone else."

"Kylo and Padme weren't close," she told you. "Padme drifted apart from everyone, eventually. I never knew my father, you see. The man in that painting." She nodded toward the portrait. "He...lost his way, shortly before my brother and I were born. My mother was never the same after he was gone. In a way, her fate was worse than his. She might as well have died a long time ago. For the longest time, I never knew much about my parents. And I didn't want to place the burden of the truth upon Ben's shoulders. Especially not when he was young. I know now that leaving children in the dark can cause so much more harm than good, even when we're only trying to protect them."

You stared at the painting. Padme and her husband looked official and regal, but they held each other so close. There wasn't any space between their bodies, like they were protecting one another. They looked like they loved each other. Everything in the world must have gone wrong for them to be ripped apart.

"It must have been very difficult for them," you said softly. "And for you."

She sighed deeply, the air settling in her chest. "I miss my husband," she confessed, "and I've missed my son so much. But even Kylo was a happy child, for quite a long time. We left him in the care of his uncle for one ground mission. After that, we seemed to revert back to that failsafe. He'd stay with his uncle while we were away. And sometimes, we had to be away for quite a long time. It doesn't take a genius to see how the boy thinks he was being abandoned. Passed off to another family member. Looking back, there are certainly things I wish I'd done differently. But the answers don't lie in the past. They lie ahead of us. I can't change the past, but I can be there for my son as he rebuilds himself."

You shrunk in your seat a little, gaze dropping to your feet.

"What is it, dear?" Leia asked softly.

"It's just been...a journey. Getting here."

"Mm. I imagine rushing to the airport in the middle of the night wasn't pleasant."

"What?" you asked, gaze snapping up to meet hers. "No, I mean with your son. The last few months."

"Ah," she said, settling back into her armchair and clasping her hands over her middle, eyeing you inquisitively. "I am curious...how you managed it."

You shook your head, blinking away the tears. "A part of me feels like I kind of just...beat him down until he finally opened up. And that doesn't feel good to know."

"If anyone needs to have their hate and anger beaten out of them, it's my son," she sighed. "I'm glad that you had the courage to do it, without giving up on him. I never gave up on Ben. But I'm not sure I had the strength to set him on the right path."

You pinched your brow. "No. No, it was never your fault. He just...he was confused. And hurt. He blamed himself for Ha- for your husband's...accident." You chewed your lip nervously, fearing you were out of line.

She nodded. "There are many things that my son has always had trouble letting go of. Fear, guilt, and loss, for starters. I know that Ben has never been able to forgive himself, even when he shouldn't have carried the blame in the first place. No one resents him for what happened to Han, but he's resented himself all of these long years."

You nodded. "I think...I think he might be starting to understand that he deserves forgiveness."

She nodded. "But what concerns me is his relationship with his uncle. It's what's kept him away from our family for so long. What made him so angry at Han in the first place. He's always been so...so angry at my brother for raising him when Han and I were away. Fearful that his parents were abandoning him, leaving him with his uncle. But fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, and hate leads to such suffering," she said, shutting her eyes for a moment, drawing a breath, before continuing, "and I know it's made him suffer."

You nodded, swallowing thickly, fighting the tears rising to your eyes.

No one was at fault. He'd just come from a heartbreaking family in a heartbreaking situation—parents who wanted to make the world a better place and protect their son, who didn't understand they weren't leaving him forever.

You envisioned a younger Kylo running around this very study, happy and blissful, unaware of the storm that was about to shroud his life. It made you ache from the inside out.

"You know," she breathed, opening her eyes. "I'm surprised he came tonight. Usually, when he visits, even though he's never here long, we have to coordinate a schedule of sorts, making sure he's not here when Luke is here."

"Luke?"

"His uncle. I'm surprised he agreed to come when Luke is coming, too."

You blinked slowly, opening your mouth, closing it, and opening it again, stammering. "I don't...everything happened so fast, I don't think anyone told him that his uncle would be here."

Leia looked at you for a long moment, brows slightly knit together, lips parted, an expression on the brink of confusion.

And then the doorbell rang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I know we’re making some bold plot-choices here, but please do not come for me, I am just a gal trying to navigate this story and bold choices were needed because we needed something sad to happen and I will just say right now that I will NOT kill leia like I ABSOLUTELY REFUSE TO DO IT like that shit WILL NOT be happening in this household. So...yeah. Sorry if this was a lot to swallow but please do not come for me I am only a little bean trying my best.


	42. What Lies Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Luke sighed, but remained patient and stoic. “I think that for so long, you were angry with me, angry with your parents, angry at everyone who played a role in your childhood, and that’s why you ran away. But after your father’s accident, you became riddled with guilt. Guilt on top of anger, and it all became twisted inside of you, until you could no longer tell the difference between hate and shame.” 
> 
> “I’m not ashamed.” Kylo lunged forward to hiss the words into his uncle’s face before he could even stop and consider what he said. Before he could even ask himself if the what Luke had said carried even an ounce of truth. 
> 
> “You are, Ben. And that’s alright. Shame is a part of life, like so many other things. Like anger. Like love. Like death."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***WARNING!!! TW: DEATH** i guess????? 
> 
> I’m sorry if this was morbid? This is just what came out of me, and was very therapeutic and emotional for me, and I want to stay true to that. So please use caution and discretion as you read, and as always, I hope you enjoy the chapter. 
> 
> \-- 
> 
> Hey guys! I finally caved and made a tiktok. It’s @_trisswrites_ Not sure if I’m gonna post anything yet, but if you have any ideas for videos, let me know! Also feel free to tag me in stuff. I love seeing your work. 
> 
> Also, thank you guys for 90k reads on wattpad!!!!! What...the actual fuck?!?!?! I’m in disbelief. I know a lot of you guys read AND COMMENT on both platforms, which still blows my mind. Thank you thank you from the bottom of my heart. I think we might hit 100k by the time this thing wraps up. That would be fucking WILD. 
> 
> I’m undergoing a little project in between updates—proofreading and editing old chapters. Because YIKES. Guys...the old chapters are SO FULL of typos. I didn’t proofread when I started out because I never expected this to blow up like it has. But seriously!!!! I don’t understand how you guys put up with me!!!!!! LOL anyway, big yikes, I’m editing those chapters, and I hope it serves you well for your rereads if you choose to do that. Love you all!!!

Mara was planted in the doorway of the study, a man standing just off of her shoulder. Leia rose herself onto trembling legs, reaching out her arms as she slowly stepped over to the pair.

"Luke," she breathed. Mara stepped aside so Leia could wrap her arms around her brother. He closed his eyes as he held her against him, face looking old and weary.

You could tell that he had been handsome in his prime—not that he wasn't good looking now. But the circles under his eyes were dark and prominent, his features appearing more exhausted than they might have on any other day. You looked down at your feet, suddenly feeling as though you were intruding on Leia and her brother. But then you remembered—Kylo was still upstairs.

And he had no idea that his uncle was here.

Your stomach flipped deep within your gut and you brought your gaze up again. You were blanched to find that Luke's eyes were now on you, and they narrowed slightly, as if trying to put the pieces together—why there might have been a young woman, roughly the age of his nephew, standing in his sister's home on such a serious and bleak occasion. One that should only involve family.

You shifted awkwardly on your feet, having stood when Leia did. You felt the urge to avert your gaze and hide, but realized in the same instant that you owed this family much more than what that would have given them. They'd opened their home to you on a day their doors should have been shut and locked.

"This isn't..." Luke began, pointing a finger at you.

You pinched your brow.

Leia turned to her brother, giving him a very knowing look that somehow seemed to hold more meaning between the two of them than mere words ever could.

To your shock, his face broke out into a grin. "Well, I'll be goddamned," Luke chuckled.

The furrow in your brow deepened, but you couldn't help a small, shaky laugh. You stepped forward, introduced yourself with an outstretched hand, knowing that you looked apologetic as you gave him your condolences.

He nodded, thanking you as you offered your sympathies. But he still couldn't keep a straight face.

"I'm sorry," he breathed, turning around to his family, face alight with an emotion you weren't sure you were reading correctly. "He's never brought one home before!"

" _Luke!"_ Mara hissed.

"Sorry, sorry. You know, I just..." But then, the realization hit him, too. He turned to Leia. "He's here?"

"He's upstairs."

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

He was relieved when Mara came to get him.

Was that an evil thing to admit?

Did it make him as much a failure as a grandson as his parents' child?

But it felt strange and out of place, down on one knee, holding the hand of the grandmother he'd never really known, listening to her drawing ragged breaths as he calmed her with soft words of his job, his former students, his writing-- things a grandmother would want to hear. Things he never got the chance to tell her before. He looked down on her with eyes that were growing misty—why were they doing that? He blinked away the fog, feeling his lashes grow wet, smiling through sniffles as he focused on any detail that could distract him enough to distract _her_.

"Yeah, grandma," he told her breathily, giving her hand a little squeeze. "I'm still writing poetry."

"I'd love to see it sometime, Ben," she whispered.

"I'll show it to you sometime. Soon." He squeezed her hand again. "I promise."

Yet another promise that probably wouldn't hold up, wouldn't age well. How many had he doled out over the years? How many had turned to ash on his tongue? He clenched his teeth, and forced a smile when she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes looked tired. Kylo felt tired inside. Just as he noticed his chest began to tense, the door slowly opened, creaking as it rotated on the hinges. It was such an old house. Every inch of it made noise. It was a wonder Padme was getting any rest around here.

"Kyl-Ben," Mara whispered, hastily correcting herself, more for Padme's benefit than his.

He stood, keeping Padme's hand gently clasped in his as he rose to his feet. He placed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. "You get some rest. I'll be back in a little while."

He followed Mara into the hallway. He expected she would have something to say to him. He didn't expect to find his girlfriend standing there, biting her fingernails, looking distressed. Her brow was deeply pinched. He'd always thought that little detail was adorable, as much as he'd hated to admit it at one point or another in the past. A telltale sign of her nervousness—that, and the fidgeting with her hair. On another occasion, it might have made him smile. But this was worse than usual. Her arms were crossed protectively over her chest, one hand near her mouth, eyes swimming with concern. Kylo quickly took a step forward, draping an arm around her waist as Mara descended down the stairs without another word.

She felt his touch and relaxed her body in the same instant. She exhaled, bringing up a hand to rest on his arm. Her gaze lifted to his and her eyes were soft, though still full of worry. Gentle and kind and warm.

"Hey," she whispered, letting him draw her against his frame. "How's she doing?"

"She's comfortable, but you know." _It's only a matter of time,_ he bit back. He exhaled, finally feeling a bit of relief as soon as the breath left his body. There was so much guilt trapped inside of his chest, his throat. The fear that as Padme lied dying, a part of him was dying with her. With her passing, there was no going back, no chance to build their family back up again, no chance to ever make them whole. Kylo cleared his throat, pulling away to look into her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Luke's here," she whispered.

Kylo's brow twitched. For a moment, he was silent. He opened his mouth to speak, but came to find that his mouth was as blank as his mind. A flicker of anxiety surged in his stomach—fear? Anger? Both? He didn't know. Suddenly, it just felt like a room was spinning, and he was already growing hot.

"It's my fault," she continued. "I should have...you were so focused on how we were going to get here on such short notice. I should have made sure you wouldn't have to see him. I should have reminded you. I'm- Kylo I'm sorry."

He pinched his brow and stared down at her, hands gripping either arm. Her voice...it was full of fear. Her teeth were practically chattering. Kylo's heart clenched in his chest the moment he realized why she was afraid.

She was afraid of _him._ She was afraid of telling him. How he'd react, and subsequently, how he'd punish her. His eyes twitched as the tears stung them all over again. He cleared his throat, cursing himself internally as he turned his face away, unable to look at her. He took a deep breath, gathered his thought, swallowed down the shame, sniffling as he turned back to her. He pursed his lips slightly as he took her face in his hands.

"Look at me," he whispered.

She did. Her eyes were glassy.

"You had no way of knowing. I'm glad you're here with me." He shook his head, gritting his teeth as he spoke his next words: "I don't think that I could do this without you."

She exhaled on a shaky breath, yanking him into another embrace. She was so small in comparison to him—her arms snatched around his middle, head resting on his chest. For a moment, Kylo was rigid. But then his cheek found the top of her head and his arms wrapped around her, too. He placed a kiss against her hair, and when she was ready, she finally pulled away, wiping her eyes.

It broke him to know that she was afraid of him, in a setting like this. They would have to work on that.

"He's downstairs in the study. Kylo..."

"I know," he managed through gritted teeth. He gave a small, curt nod, as much for his benefit as for hers.

It was time to end this.

They descended the stairs shoulder to shoulder. She stole a glance of him out of the corner of her eyes. He carried himself with a steely resoluteness. Rigid. Severe.

Afraid.

She gave his hand a little squeeze before he continued down the corridor, alone. She, on the other hand, dipped into the kitchen, where Leia was already preemptively pouring them both a glass of wine.

But Kylo entered the study.

Alone.

His uncle stood in the center of the room—facing the mantle. Gazing up at the portrait of his parents. Hands clasped behind his back. Kylo had to bite back a scoff. He looked so _scholarly_ like this. But Kylo knew his uncle for what he was. Kylo's fists clenched and unclenched at his side. He had half a mind to run. But he wasn't a child anymore. He wasn't a coward. He wasn't weak.

Luke sensed his nephew's presence without having to turn around. And before Kylo set his eyes on his uncle's face for the first time in over a decade, he heard the man's voice: "Ben."

"Skywalker."

At last, the man turned.

Kylo's brow furrowed, just barely. The man looked different than he remembered him, but simultaneously, somehow almost the same. The same features were there, and poignantly recognizable, but aged, and grayed where facial hair had grown.

"You've changed," Kylo managed breathily.

"You haven't," Luke said, unable to hold back a grin. "A little, I mean. Of course you have-- a bit," he continued, taking steps to close the distance between them. "But so much of you is just as I remember."

Luke grew close. Kylo's entire body tensed—visibly. Luke stopped in his tracks, seeing that there was a line, and that he was about to cross it. But Luke was a perceptive man. He knew when to draw back.

"I'm surprised you came. What with me...being here," Luke admitted.

"You weren't even on my mind when I heard about Padme."

Luke knew his nephew had meant that as an insult, but he thought that on the contrary, perhaps it signaled growth. There was a time when not even the death of a parent could have persuaded Kylo to come home, not when Luke was going to be there.

"I hear you've left the university."

Kylo nodded, neck so stiff he was almost unable to move it.

"And now you're working in the city."

Another nod.

"Do you like it?"

Kylo cast his gaze to the side. "I miss teaching. I miss my students."

"You were always such a gifted writer"

"I miss it," he repeated blankly.

Slowly, sympathetically, Luke nodded. And the silence hung heavy in the air again, heavy enough to weigh Kylo down. Luke didn't say anything, just nodded, eyeing his nephew carefully, letting the silence fizzle out for as long as it could.

"This feels wrong," Kylo admitted lifelessly when his uncle didn't speak. "For so long, there's been so much I've wanted to say to you. To unleash it now, with your mother upstairs..." Kylo swallowed thickly, narrowing his eyes, keeping himself stoic and strong. He'd envisioned his revenge so many times in the past. Now that it was within his grasp, reaching for it made him feel corrupted.

Luke held up his hands. "I wouldn't want you to hold anything back. Say what's on your mind."

Kylo's mouth twitched as he mulled over the words, trying to force them to form on his tongue, but they wouldn't come. He grunted, turning away, furious with his own weakness. How many sleepless nights had he lied awake, torturing himself, forming every last thing he would say to his uncle when he saw him again, fantasizing about how he would rip the man to shreds?

That moment was here. And now, the words, perfectly rehearsed and planned as they were, died like ash on his tongue.

And he felt like he was dying, too.

Kylo's chest heaved and he roamed the study, clenching and unclenching the fists that hung like weights at his side, battling with his own mind.

Torture. It was pure, life-ending torture.

"It's alright. I can start," Luke offered.

Kylo said nothing. His uncle seemed to take that as permission to continue.

"First of all, I want you to know that nobody blames you for what happened to your father. It was a tragic accident. But it wasn't your fault. If I'm being honest, Han should never have gotten into that car. But he did. And you were left with the consequences. I'm sorry you've had to carry that burden."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do. After the accident, you seemed to take what happened and use it as a weapon. Use it as the crux of your decision to stay estranged from your family forever. I'm sorry you felt that way. But at the funeral, all your mother wanted was for you to be by her side. Was for her son to be standing there with her. I don't know how she got through it without you."

Kylo scoffed, pacing madly around the study, but the sound was strained. Like every one of Luke's words, every "I'm sorry," and "it wasn't your fault" stuck knife after knife straight into Kylo's heart.

"Now," Luke continued. "I know that's not the crux of the issue, here. I know that most of your pain stems from coming to live with me when you were a boy, which is why you left the family as soon as you were old enough to live on your own."

Kylo said nothing, but his nostrils flared. So Luke continued.

"I know a part of you understands that your parents didn't want to give you up. But their job was to help refugees in war-torn countries. They were on the ground, Kylo, sometimes in active war-zones. Feeding the victims. Clothing them. Carrying them to medic tents, or the nearest hospitals, which were sometimes miles away-- and in between them and safety lied landmines or battlefields. They couldn't take them with you. It wouldn't have been safe."

"They maybe they should have had second thoughts about having a child they couldn't raise."

"Maybe," Luke pondered. Finally, Kylo stopped in his tracks, staring hatefully at his uncle. "Maybe they should have waited. Maybe they should have rethought everything, just as you said. But then the world would have been robbed of _you,_ Ben, of your brilliant mind, and your resilient heart. And it would have been a loss for us all."

"Don't talk to me like you're my father. You're not."

"I helped raise you, Ben," Luke responded patiently.

"And therein lies the issue," Kylo responded coolly. "I never wanted you as a father. But my father never wanted me as a son."

Luke's brow softened, and he searched his nephew's face for a sliver of softness. Surprisingly, under all the hardness, the formidable steel and stone, he thought that he could spot a whisper of vulnerability. "You know that isn't true, Ben. Search yourself. You were a child, then, and I understand why you might have felt that way long ago. But you're a man now. You've grown into an intelligent, logical person. I know that deep down, you understand that your parents didn't have any desire to pass you off to someone else."

"And yet that's exactly what they did," Kylo spat back, not unlike a seething child.

Luke sighed, but remained patient and stoic. "I think that for so long, you were angry with me, angry with your parents, angry at everyone who played a role in your childhood, and that's why you ran away. But after your father's accident, you became riddled with guilt. Guilt on top of anger, and it all became twisted inside of you, until you could no longer tell the difference between hate and shame."

"I'm not ashamed." Kylo lunged forward to hiss the words into his uncle's face before he could even stop and consider what he said. Before he could even ask himself if what Luke had said carried even an ounce of truth.

"You are, Ben. And that's alright. Shame is a part of life, like so many other things. Like anger. Like love. Like death," he said, eyes flickering towards the ceiling as if he was searching for his own mother. Kylo clenched his jaw, reaching with his mind, desperate to hold onto the hate that he'd relied on for so long, the hate that he'd come to know, the hate that had built him a home. But now, staring at his uncle, with death and sadness hanging around the air of the once lively estate, more than anything else, Kylo felt tired.

"You don't have to forgive me right now, son. Forgiveness takes longer than a day. But please," he implored softly, taking a step forward, closing the distance between him and his nephew altogether. "Don't let it take a lifetime. Someday that will be your mother up in that bed, and you'll wish more than anything else in the world that you hadn't made things so difficult for yourself."

Kylo wanted to speak, but it felt like his jaw was drilled shut. He couldn't even part his lips to curse the furious tears rising to his tired, stone-colored eyes. His eyelids twitched as he tried to fight the sadness and fear and hope battling inside of his chest.

"Not today," Kylo whispered through gritted teeth. "But someday."

Luke gave a curt nod, and a slight smile, only tugging his gaze away from his nephew when the floorboards creaked from the entrance to the study.

It was Leia—looking stoic but patient, eyeing the two of them cautiously.

Luke patted Kylo's cheek. Kylo's eyes flickered to the floor, but he allowed it. Turning on his heel, Luke exited the study, passing Leia as he went, who slowly, carefully, made her way towards her son.

"I've been waiting years for you two to hash it out," she said. "And all in all, it didn't seem to take very long."

"I guess it's easier to make amends when someone is dying."

"A sad thought," she said, landing in front of Kylo, letting her gaze land in his. "But it's never necessary to wait until it's too late."

Kylo sighed; part of him wanted to apologize. A part of him didn't know how. A part of him felt like he had his entire lifetime to apologize for. A part of him felt like he didn't have it in him to make up for all of it.

"I look at you, and I see so much pain. But I see goodness, too, Ben," Leia said softly, raising a hand to the side of her son's face. In an act not short of a miracle, Kylo only flinched, but didn't push the touch away. "You've had a hard life. It runs in the family," she quipped in a whisper, giving the boy half a smile. "But you've seen the beauty that life has to offer you. I know you have. I've seen it too. She's in the kitchen right now, having a glass of wine with your aunt. Your father would have been proud of you for finding her, against all odds."

Kylo let his eyes fall shut, the breath kicking out of his chest, and suddenly, his mind grew warm again, filled with images of _her. Her,_ twisting in his bedsheets, _her,_ staring at him from across a classroom, back straight and lips parted, pencil in hand and books scattered across her desk _, her,_ buried in a pile of classic literature, _her_ eyes swimming with tears when he'd called her naïve, _her,_ laughing, open-mouthed, the sound like a linnet or a bell, as she laid naked across his duvet cover, giggling at something he'd said when he wasn't trying to be funny, _her,_ wearing that damned red dress, _her,_ after he'd emptied himself inside of her that day in the meadow, telling her that was the last time—the way her eyes softened when she responded, " _no it wasn't."_

He could go on forever. He likely would. Ever since she'd found him, the thoughts had never stopped. Swallowing them down was only a temporary fix. Even he knew that no matter how hard he tried, he'd always carry her inside of him, like her ghost lived in his mind, where she would remain for an eternity.

Kylo inhaled deeply. Even through shut eyelids, the tears were still there. And now, they were threatening to choke him. All he'd wanted was a normal childhood. And he knew—he _knew_ deep down that when his parents were gone, it was because they were doing good in the world. But they'd been away from him. His own mother, missing so much of his life. But instead of making up for lost time, he'd left them all behind instead. And now, there was twice as much to make up for. So much time that Kylo didn't feel he had it in him to conquer.

He bowed his head low, not realizing he was shaking until he'd already given up on holding himself together. Leia caught him in an instant, and his head found her shoulder. He towered over the woman. In comparison, her hands and arms, encircling his middle, were tiny. But she still held him, and he still let her, just as he let the tears fall and sobs wrack his chest.

Softly, she rubbed the center of his back, and let everything be silent. There was a lifetime to make up for. But there was still time.

"I should have-- I never should have let him get in that car," he gasped through choked sobs.

Leia held him tighter, feeling her son's tears soak through her shirt. "If you live your life focusing on the past, you'll miss what's ahead. There's so much ahead for you, Ben. Your father wanted that for you."

He choked through another sob—in a decade, over a decade, he'd never cried like this. Never cried at all. Never lost control like this. He'd feared the idea of crumbling so much that he'd come to resent and detest the possibility of it happening. But now, as tremors wracked his frame and tears blinded his vision, he found that in all truth, it really wasn't so bad. He'd gone through the darkest parts of his life all alone, and since then, he'd come to realize he didn't need anyone. But what if he just let them help him? What if, just for once, he trusted someone other than himself?

Leia held him firmly against her and stayed that way—even as the sobs grew worse, and finally, as they began to even out. She let him struggle through the pain and discomfort, let him fight his way through every inch and crevice of it. And then, once he'd felt every shred of the feelings he'd spent a decade running from, she knew that he would emerge on the other side.

After a while, his breathing slowed. And Leia pulled away, her gentle hand finding her son's cheek.

"You're stronger than you've ever been before," she whispered. "And you can be strong without staying away from me. From all of us."

Kylo sniffled, and he nodded.

Finally, he was the son that she recognized.

"I love you, son," she breathed.

"I know," he whispered.

━━━━━━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━━━━━━

He'd been alone in the study for some time. After Leia had returned to the kitchen, you'd jumped from your barstool, eager to go after him. But Leia held up a gentle hand, and slowly, you sank back in your chair, understanding.

He would come when he was ready. Or rather, you would go after him, after he'd had a while to sit with himself.

You stayed there with Leia and Mara after Luke had gone upstairs to speak with his mother. It was strange the way the circumstances were bringing everyone together. Leia and Mara grinned widely as they regaled you with tales of some of their most haphazard family vacations, when Kylo had been...Ben. When he'd only been a child.

Their faces were alight as they told you how once, when whitewater rafting, Ben had been thrown from the boat. At the time, it had been terrifying—a mother's nightmare. Once they'd pulled him back aboard and returned to headquarters, and they'd swaddled the kid in a towel, they realized how funny it had been: watching him, legs to the sky, as a single bumpy wave had sent him flying.

"He was such a skinny child," Leia chuckled. "Skin and bones up until he left for college."

You wiped your eyes, grinning from ear to ear as you tried to burn the mental image to memory.

Leia and Mara were incredible women. You delighted in speaking with them, and it warmed your heart to know that the people Kylo had come from were so astonishing and kind.

Only when it felt safe to do so did you excuse yourself, with Leia's permission, to go after Kylo. You held your breath as you approached the study. You paused in the doorway, watching him.

His back was towards you. Hands stuffed in his pockets. Gaze directed upwards at the portrait of his grandparents above the mantle. Soft locks of dark hair kissing his shoulders.

The moment your foot hit the floor, he seemed to sense you. Impossibly, he always seemed to know when you were near. He turned around, and you were surprised to find his gaze gentle, eyes soft, if a little misty. You pinched your brow in surprise as you crossed the room, gingerly taking your place, standing inches away from him, gaze lifted towards his, eyes towards eyes, lips towards lips.

"Are you alright?" you whispered.

"I'm alright," he whispered back, withdrawing a hand from his pocket to wrap around your gentle fingers, lifting them to his lips and placing a kiss on your knuckles.

You studied his eyes. They were red and wet. You wondered if he'd gotten it all out, and hoped that he had.

Kylo brought an arm around your shoulders, drawing you against his frame. You rested your head against his broad shoulder. The two of you stood there for quite some time, gazing up at the two people in the portrait.

"They were afraid I'd turn out like my grandfather," he whispered suddenly.

You turned your head to study his features, but as ever, they were unreadable.

"Do you know what he did?"

"I don't know the whole story," he told you. "I don't think I ever will. I don't think I want to. I know that for a long time, he was happy with my grandmother. But he left when she was pregnant. He'd done something bad. I don't know what, but he chose that life over her, or maybe felt like he'd had to. They never saw him again."

You swallowed thickly, not sure of what to say.

"The strange thing is, they say he really loved her. Was enraptured with her. That they were destined to be together. They said it would have taken heaven and hell to move him, to separate Anakin and Padme. But even though he loved her, he still turned away in the end."

Kylo turned to look at you then, gazing down at you from his impossible height, sheltering you in his arms. "Whatever was strong enough to take him from her, it will never be strong enough to take me from you."

You sighed softly, feeling your heart flutter in its cage. Your eyes swam with tears all over again as Kylo drew you in, leaning down to place his lips against yours. They were warm and tender. You were still getting used to them. He inhaled, and you hummed softly against his lips, no longer trying to quell the overwhelming emotions that surged in your chest. You let yourself feel them just as you felt the firmness of his kiss and the protection of his arms.

Kylo pulled away, swallowing thickly as he tucked a strand of hair off of your forehead, gazing onto your features.

"Thank you for being here for me."

"I will always be here for you," you breathed. 


	43. Dominion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He squared his jaw, shaking his head, narrowing his impossibly deep eyes. 
> 
> You thought back to the letter you found on his desk the very first day you’d ever given yourself to him. You thought about the past that you deeply wanted to unearth, the man you used to want to fix. You stepped up to him, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek, basking in his darkness but keeping one foot in the light. He straightened up, leaning, reaching into your touch with all of his body. Was this some kind of test he expected you to fail? 
> 
> “I’m not in pursuit of someone you used to be. I love the person that you’ve become,” you breathed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title is “kegels.” Ladies, get those reps in.

You left Kylo in New York with the knowledge that so much had changed, but in many ways, things had stayed the same, too.

As much as you wanted to remain for the funeral, he insisted that you couldn't both take off work at the same time; it would have been too suspicious. It broke your heart, made you feel guilty, leaving him so shortly after Padme's passing, as you grappled with the reality that while he would have appreciated you being there, he didn't need it. He still didn't need you the way you needed him, and maybe that would _never_ change.

He'd spent _years_ strengthening himself.

The glances of softness and exhaustion you'd glimpsed while back in his home were few and far between, you were coming to realize. It was as if once in a while, his eyes would swing open like doors, and beyond them, in the distance, you could make out the pain and suffering beneath them before they clamped shut again.

The solace came from the fact that he wasn't pushing you away anymore. That he finally understood if you were his, then he was yours.

But he'd grown quiet again. You were sure in his eyes, he thought he'd been weak, and was punishing himself. But you couldn't imagine how difficult it must have been staying in his childhood home again. You didn't ask what specters in the hallway were keeping him awake when you felt him tossing and turning next to you in the middle of the night.

You went back to Boston in time for work on Monday, feeling guilty. Stronger than the guilt was the sadness of knowing he would survive without you. But maybe that wasn't saying anything—there wasn't much that Kylo would have to endure that he hadn't already.

The following week, Kylo had returned. You gave him the space you knew he'd need, but found yourself itching for his touch again, his voice, even just his glance.

Not even a day passed by the time he asked to see you.

It was the Monday he'd come back to work—him at the Press and you at the Bulletin. You were proofing an article for none other than Cora Tille when your phone buzzed on the tabletop, and one look at your home-screen sent shockwaves through your blood.

_Grace has some manuscripts for me. Tell her I want hard copies of them, and bring them to me at 7:00. I want to see you._

You tried to swallow to smile that erupted onto your face. Tried to pry it off of yourself. You found that it wouldn't budge.

Your heart was battering at what felt like twice its normal speed when you stepped from your car and crossed the parking lot, the nerves chasing you all the way into the elevator. Holding your breath as you swiped your access card, you stepped into a very dark reception area. It looked as though everyone was gone, which you knew would be the case this late in the evening. Seeing it empty brought a feeling of warmth and excitement so dense you felt like your bones would shatter under its weight, like you were being swaddled in a blanket of sweet anticipation.

Only a few more steps. It was just you and him—separated a wall and a door. Sucking in a chestful of air, you harbored it in your lungs as you turned the knob, stepping inside his office.

Your eyes should have settled on him, but the first thing you noticed was how starkly similar it was to the old one at the university, in Holdo Hall. The same mahogany bookcases, the same transitional-style desk-lamp, darkened, navy drapes that grazed the floor. Suddenly, you felt yourself step through time, and you found yourself standing in his office for the first time, a college junior, before you'd even so much as had a conversation with him. Before the fated course-- topics in English literature. Maybe before he even knew your name. You couldn't suppress the sweet grin that widened your lips as time whipped forward once more.

When your gaze fell on Kylo, you saw that his had already fallen on yours. You felt your expression soften, but the lift to your lips didn't falter.

"It's good to have you back," you told him, softly but stoically, voice, mind, and body possessing a certain wisdom that hadn't quite been there a year ago. You set the stack of manuscripts on his desk—your insurance for having to come see him, but nothing more than an excuse.

You nearly needed a microscope to see the tiny upward twitch at the corners of his lips—a telltale smirk. He was standing near the bookshelves, hands stuffed in his pockets.

He rounded the desk, eyes never once faltering, never once leaving you—not even for the smallest, most nondescript amount of time. They were glued to you like they were fated to be there, like he didn't want to miss even a sliver of your existence.

"I hope your family is well," you told him, having given all of them, including Kylo, a plethora of teary condolences before you returned to Boston.

"They are," he assured you quite simply, before withdrawing a hand from his pocket to gesture lightly towards you. "They wished you could have stayed. Each one of them enjoyed meeting you, and enjoyed having you. Asked all sorts of questions after you left."

"Hmm." You nodded, smiling softly. "And what did you tell them?"

"I told them you're exactly what you are."

"Which is." It wasn't a question.

"My girlfriend."

You tried to suppress the butterflies that lurched upwards and into your throat and threatened to fly out between your lips. You took a steadying breath, knowing that he saw you falter, knowing he was watching you try to keep your happiness from bursting out of the seams of your skin. "Did you."

"Well. To tell the truth, it sounds so juvenile, I'm not sure if I put it exactly the same way every time," he confessed with a light shrug. "Girlfriend. Other half. Significant whatever."

Your lips cracked into a broader grin. Another deep, steadying breath. You felt your body sway on the spot. "So that's what we are now."

"I don't know what else you'd call it."

You eyed him daringly. "I knew you'd come around, Mr. Ren."

"You know, it's strange. After all this time, I think I miss being 'professor' more than anything else."

You grinned at the way he was showing his truth, which was something so rare in him. Something that like would _remain_ rare, or come to you in little ways. You already decided that those little ways would be what you'd live for, scooping them off the floor and putting them together until you could make sense of them.

Silence fell between you; you missed the old days, too. You missed being his top student. You missed your study sessions. In between then and now, so much of your lives had changed that the new version of yourself, fumbling through corporate America, growing, maturing, looked unrecognizable from what you were when you started.

"I should be really clear about something," he said, leaning against his desk and facing you.

"Okay," you agreed, nodding, but feeling a tight twisting sensation ravaging your guts.

"I won't ever be the person that I'm afraid you may want me to be.

"And who are you to say that you know who I want you to be?"

He squared his jaw, shaking his head, narrowing his impossibly deep eyes.

You thought back to the letter you found on his desk the very first day you'd ever given yourself to him. You thought about the past that you deeply wanted to unearth, the man you used to want to fix. You stepped up to him, reaching up to place a hand on his cheek, basking in his darkness but keeping one foot in the light. He straightened up, leaning, reaching into your touch with all of his body. Was this some kind of test he expected you to fail?

"I'm not in pursuit of someone you used to be. I love the person that you've become," you breathed.

Your eyes centered on his jaw, where you could see a tense vein flexing under the skin where he clenched his teeth. His eyes flickered downwards, roaming your lips, trailing down to your neck, the same neck that fit so flawlessly in his hand. He eyed you almost as if he was curious.

"Besides," you told him. "It goes both ways."

You watched him quirk a brow, his eyes still glued to the movements of your mouth.

"I won't be quiet. I won't be demure. I won't hold my tongue anymore."

"Oh, believe me. I know," he grumbled, the flat hardness in his voice an inexplicably beautiful juxtaposition to the way he trailed his thumb and forefinger along a loose strand of your hair.

You grinned wickedly, leaning in just a hairsbreadth, until you could feel the warmth of his lips buzzing against your own. "I'm not the same little timid English student who used to sit in the back of your classroom anymore."

"I'd wouldn't say you were ever _timid."_

"If I wasn't timid before, then what does that make me now?"

Kylo swallowed thickly, lips twitching, as if he burned to kiss you. "Completely and wholly fearless."

You felt your eyes clamp shut just shy of feeling his lips press against yours. Inhaling sharply through your nose, your hands reached for his body. You couldn't have touched him fast enough, couldn't have endured another second without feeling his skin and muscle and warmth under your fingertips. Strong arms encircled your waist, pulling you flush against his middle. The fingers that snaked through his hair and clutched were operating on instinct, on pure desire, a need that never dissipated, an urge that never died. You parted your lips and felt his tongue slip into your mouth, and he felt every inch of your body, every stretch of muscle and blood twitch and flutter in response. Your heart swam in your chest, and mostly, your mind was silent, save for the staggering realization that this would never get old. You would never stop wanting it, no matter how long you would have it for. His tongue dragged across your lower lip, followed by his teeth, lightly sinking down onto the same spot.

It became clear—a knowledge you knew you already possessed now but finally crossed the forefront of your mind.

You needed this forever.

The thought alone made your breath hitch, and your hands lowered, gripping the collar of his pristine suit jacket and yanking him harder against your body. Pushing him backwards until the backs of his legs hit his desk, it was everything you could do not to shove him down and climb on top of him.

His lips grew hot and furious against your own, and the sound of hitching breaths and soft moans became mingled with the unmistakable sound of fervent kisses, lips hungry and uncaring and desperate. His fingers yanked your blouse out of the confines of your skirt, fingers dipping beneath to snake up the small of your back before sliding up your ribcage. You shuddered beneath the weight of his gripping hands.

He pulled away, and you saw that he shuddered too. His hand moved to hover over your jaw, fingers trembling as he drank you in. And you realized that you couldn't tell if he wanted to caress you or grasp you violently. You weren't sure which _you_ wanted.

"When I get you home again..." he growled, tongue darting out to wet his lower lip, "you have no idea. All of the things I'm going to do to you."

You buzzed beneath his touch as his hand wrapped around your throat, blooding boiling at the realization that the touch was light; he placed almost no tension against the pulse that battered expressively against his fingertips. But the darkness that loomed in his eyes was enough to tell you that the touch was a threat. How easily he could tighten his grip, how he could cut off your breath without even a shred of effort.

Your lips crashed into his again, and you felt his fingers close around your throat just barely. You moaned softly against the sweet, irresistible tension as he wet your mouth with lazy, sloppy kisses, driving your tongue against his and feeling them swirl against each other through the gap of parted lips.

"I can't wait that long," you whispered, breath coming in such desperate heaves that you thought your blouse would burst open at the seams.

Kylo growled lowly, hands darting to your waist and spinning you around so your ass was against his desk, the edge of the tabletop biting the tops of your thighs.

"On the desk," he growled.

Your breath failed in your throat as you lifted yourself onto the tabletop, guided by his gentle but tension-filled hands. You parted your legs, drawing him instantly, moaning in response to the unmistakable hardness you felt brush against your panties as he slid the fabric of your skirt up your thighs with broad palms, his pace glacial and torturous.

His fingers teased the edge of your skirt before dipping in between your legs. He dragged two fingers up the center of your pussy, your clit practically pulsating beneath his touch. Your brain went fuzzy as ecstasy and desperation flooded your mind until you were fully possessed by your desire, and feeling drugged, feeling yourself slipping from your own existence, you wanted nothing more than to feel every inch of his body, knowing that the longer you endured without him, the more you'd ache.

You were addicted to him, fully and completely. Addicted to his touch, addicted to the love you felt for him, addicted for his dominion over you, addicted to the way he fit inside of you-- in more ways than one.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he teased your folds, watering at the mouth and trembling, struggling to form coherent sentences as your mind went blank and dark. His fingers were perfection against you, knowing exactly where to press, where to drag, where to brush lightly and where to rub slow, torturous circles solely for the satisfaction of watching you melt beneath them.

"Already so wet for me," he breathed steadily. "Is this what you want?" Then cocking his brow, he smirked maliciously. Teasing you.

You clenched your jaw, managing a shaky nod.

"Good girls tell me what they want. Are you going to be a good girl for me?" His grasp was still a whisper against your throat.

Panting, you licked your lips, wet with desire and hunger. "Please," you shuddered. "I want you inside me. Please."

"Please what?" he rasped.

You gulped, eyes darkening. "Please, Mr. Ren."

Quivering as he slid your panties to the side of your folds, your breath hitched at the sensation of one of his strong fingers sliding into you. Your eyes snapped shut as you sucked in a sharp breath. You moaned softly, feeling his grip move to your jaw. Your eyes opened once more, solely for the sake of holding his gaze in yours. Both of you were silent, staring intently into each other as he slowly finger-fucked you, reveling in your wetness.

You saw his jaw clench in the same instant that you felt a deep stretching, knowing he'd added another finger. You felt your jaw go slack and he drank in your gaze, as if growing strong and bold on your ecstasy.

Everything shattered when he added his ring finger, stretching your entrance and blinding you with heat.

" _Fuck_ ," you whimpered, clenching your teeth, fighting the sensation to wrack your hips against his hand.

He snickered darkly, head still bowed towards yours, forehead pressed against your temple, inhaling the waves of arousal that simmered off of your skin.

Your walls felt tight around him, pussy gripping his strong fingers as he fucked them through your wetness. " _Fuck,_ that's it. _Oh, god_."

"Look how easy it is for me to make you melt," he purred, hand a ghost around your skin, teasing and threatening, a silent warning that he could choke the life out of you if he desired. You moaned and he snickered again, pumping his fingers significantly less forgivingly, breathing hotly against your ear. "I love watching you come undone. I could make you fall apart so easily."

Another moan tumbled at your throat, and you felt an unmistakable heat began to blush across your body, scorching your thighs, chest, neck, and belly. "Kylo, p-"

His hand tightened around your jaw. A whimper bubbled from your throat. "Mr. Ren," you gasped. " _Please,_ Mr. Ren. Please, I'm so close, I-"

"You're already gonna cum for me? Is my little slut going to cum while I finger-fuck her?"

You flushed, disgraceful and deliciously indecent. You could no longer swallow down the moans, and they tumbled from your throat with abandon.

"Shh, shh, shh," breathed. He withdrew his fingers; they slid out of you wet and glistening, and your breath hitched. "Not yet," he told you darkly. You watched him lift his fingers to your mouth, teasing at your lower lip. You held back your tongue, waiting for Kylo's orders.

"I think I need to keep that mouth of yours quiet," he told you. Your belly fluttered in response. "Suck," he ordered.

Your lips parted, and you sucked back three of Kylo's fingers greedily into your mouth. You licked at your own wetness, lips taut against his skin, feeling him tease the back of your throat will small movements. You gagged, a soft gurgling bubbling from your throat, eliciting a dark smile from Kylo. " _Good girl_ ," he hummed, watching you take him back to the knuckle, eyes locked with his as your tongue swirled, bobbing your head, hoping he was imagining you sucking and choking on his cock instead.

He exhaled on a hot, heavy breath, watching you work your mouth. "Such a good fucking girl," he murmured, grinning. Truly grinning. The sight alone sent jolts of what you could only describe as electricity, flickering violently through your belly. He watched you, lips wrapped around his fingers, cheeks hollowed, and hummed in approval.

He withdrew his fingers, trailing them down your chin before cupping your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut and your body grew overcome by heated, desperate breaths.

"Does my good girl want to get fucked?" he purred.

You moaned aloud, fingers moving to clutch the collar of his jacket once more. "Please," you groaned, lips diving to his neck. You inhaled deeply, trailing your lips and tongue across the crevice below his jaw, as if breathing him in would be enough to sate you.

Hands clenched in your hair. Tension burned at your scalp and desire burned in your belly. Since the withdrawal of his fingers, you felt noticeably, and achingly, _empty_. Slowly, Kylo pulled your head back, and your gaze fell towards the ceiling. You strained your eyes to keep them locked with his. "Please, what?"

"Please," you whimpered. "I want your cock, Mr. Ren. _Please_ fuck me, _please._ "

He growled lowly—a sound you'd come to adore, come to _live for—_ as one hand darted to unbuckle his belt in one impossibly impressive, smooth motion, the other remaining fisted in your tousled hair. His breath was hitched as he freed himself from his dress pants, giving himself a few rough strokes in his hand before lining up to your entrance, _finally,_ plunging himself into your heat.

He exhaled shakily, the relief sizzling on his skin as he braced himself, placing his hands atop the desk at either side of your hips. His head bowed, dipping into your neck, breath fanning against your skin. You shuddered as you felt him fill you, submerged into a dense ocean of relief. You sighed against him, one hand clutching him at the hip and the other seizing his hair, fingers curling around soft, thick locks. You groaned as you felt him draw away, onto to plunge back into you, the growls ripping from his throat driving you quickly to madness.

" _Fuck,"_ you breathed against him, keeping him close as you rolled your hips, allowing him to find a steady rhythm but begging for him to be closer, if possible. He growled and groaned into your neck with every swift motion, every slow, torturous thrust. It blinded you with pleasure—the way he teased you with gradual motions but _scorched_ you each time his hips came flush with yours. "Fuck, that's so fucking-" you stammered, unable to form a coherent thought, let alone a coherent phrase. You tightened your hold on his hair, groaning into his ear as at last, he picked up the pace, finding a more urgent, more desperate rhythm. You pulled away only to watch his face. There was little you loved more than watching him lose control, and the sight was one that you wished you could have burned into your memory: his eyes were dark, jaw slack, muscles tense as he thrusted against you.

But it was hot— _too hot._ The air between you burned. You exhaled heavily, hands darting to his shoulders to shove off his jacket. He helped you, flinging it off his arms and tossing it to the side. His hands furiously seized your hips, mouth darting to yours, dragging wet, lazy, unchecked kisses across your lips and jaw.

"That pussy feels so good. So fucking tight. Such a good girl for me. Such an eager little slut."

Shame burned in your belly as the words sent shockwaves of pleasure straight through your pussy. Your mouth fell open, lips molding to his, wet and senseless. His thrusts were more brutal, breaths coming in short bursts, moans and growls impossible to hold back. His hand closed around your throat, lips capturing yours violently. You groaned against them, pleasure from his driving cock blinding you completely.

"Is that what you are?" he demanded. "Are you my little slut?"

You whimpered, lips trembling as you parted them. "Yes, Mr. Ren. Please— _fuck._ I'm a slut for your cock."

He moaned, lips capturing yours once more, a wordless indication that you'd answered correctly. You blazed with pleasure, not only from the maddeningly blissful sensation of him fucking you, but also from the knowledge that this was no longer his crux. This was something that both of you wanted. You were alight with desire-- the desire to be _his._ You were too lost in it all to hear whatever Ren did next.

"Stop," he growled suddenly, turning his head over his shoulder to stare at the door. You rubbed a hand down his back. Everything was perfectly silent. You knew that there was nothing on the other side—that there was _nothing._ Nothing but you and Kylo.

You squeezed the walls of your cunt around his stationary cock, and he whipped his head back towards you "No-- _agh_ _,"_ he growled, dipping his head downward before growling a dark, commanding warning into your ear: " _don't move right now_."

He held his breath, listening to nothing. You pulsed around his cock again, and again, rolling your hips, and his breathing hitched. He turned back to you, giving you a dark look before cracking a devilish grin, face diving into your neck. You felt the instant stains of hot, wet, violent kisses, listening to the gentle suctions of his lips against your collarbone. Your chest heaved, and you moaned aloud when he began thrusting again.

"Mmm, such a naughty thing _\--_ _aghh_ _"_ he moaned, jaw going slack against your neck as he thrusted into you harder, faster, nuzzled against your skin, sucking at your neck, hands holding you close. " _Fuck,_ you feel so goddamn good. This pussy feels so fucking good. _God,_ I love _pounding_ _it_."

Your hips strained to widen your legs as far as they could possibly widen. Everything was hot and blazing. Your lips found his and in a senseless, blind battle, they crashed again. It was less than a kiss. It was hot passion, two mouths moving at the height of pleasure and at the depths of control. You moaned against his lips, tongue swirling with his, and searing pleasure bloomed in every inch of your body. You were the _picture_ of desire, filled with light, filled with illicit desperation: legs spread, pussy dripping and taking his cock, lips wet and shamefully swollen from violent kisses.

That was when the door to Kylo's office opened.

Kylo froze, and you felt the breath that rose to your throat stall and die and suddenly, you felt nothing at all. You didn't remember garnering the courage to look at who was standing there. But somehow, inexplicably, you did. And immediately, you felt faint.

You'd thought there were times in the past—where Kylo had made you feel so aroused, so happy, or so viciously _un_ happy, that your breath had stopped working, or your heart skipped a beat. But your lungs had never failed you the way they failed you in that moment. It was as if every organ in your body froze and ceased, plunging you into dark, cold nothingness.

You were frozen in fear, you realized. You couldn't even pry your eyes off of the woman in the doorway. Couldn't even summon a muscle to push Kylo off of you. Couldn't even close your legs in shame.

Kylo's expression was strangely blank, eyes lost somewhere in between your neck and chest before he understood. His head whipped over his shoulder towards the door, and then he, too, was still.

Bazine Netal stood in the doorway with one hand on the knob and one hand on her hip.

If you could have formed a thought, if you could have recalled any moment of that brazen nightmare, you would have realized she was grinning. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys!!! Since posting the last chapter, we've hit OVER 100k views on wattpad, and 2550+ kudoes on AO3. As always, I am stunned and confused. Thank you to EACH AND EVERY ONE OF YOU!! Your feedback gives me life, so if you'd like, please comment so I can interact and adore you all. thank you thank you thank you!!!!


	44. I Know What I Have To Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kylo watched as she passed through the opening, stopped once she was in the hallway, and look back. 
> 
> Kylo’s already cold heart clenched in his chest as he read her expression. She had been emotional at times, in the past. 
> 
> Never—never once—had Kylo ever seen her look terrified. 
> 
> Not until now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 119,000 reads on Wattpad. 
> 
> I am going to say that again. 
> 
> 119 THOUSAND READS on wattpad alone. 
> 
> I cannot thank you guys enough. I can’t post notes on wattpad, but I do know that some of you read on both platforms, so I just want to take this opportunity to thank you for your ongoing, unfailing, and WHACKASS support and love. Is it possible to hit 150k by the end of the fic? Stay tuned to find out! 
> 
> In addition, we are nearly at 95,000 reads on AO3 and have exceeded 2600 kudos. Thank you so much. This did not even happen in my wildest dreams. I love you all so fucking much and I can’t believe we’re almost at the end. 
> 
> That being said, I am here to hurt you with a flashback today. Enjoy the chapter!!!!

Kylo had become involved with Bazine shortly after leaving the university, and subsequently, after leaving everything behind him. Again. 

He knew he didn’t have much of a choice; Bazine had a way of getting everything she wanted while effortlessly skirting around the consequences. And Kylo didn’t have the energy to fight it. And not only that—at the time, he’d welcomed the distraction. Anything to allow him to forget _her._ When he was tangled up with Bazine, he was picturing someone else, nuzzling his face into her neck as he fucked her so he didn’t have to look at that darkly malevolent women who, in that present moment, would have him within her clutches—literally. That way, he could easily pretend it was someone else in her place. Someone specific. 

The first night with Bazine—and truth be told, there weren’t too many nights with her altogether—it was a release that he felt he needed. He was angry. Angrier than he expected to be. Angrier than he _should have been._ Leaving the college, leaving the _girl—_ it all should have made him feel nothing at all. He had to show himself that he didn’t want her, pretend he didn’t need her, pretend she was replaceable. Expendable. Because she had to be. Kylo couldn’t afford for her to be anything else. 

At first, it was difficult. Kylo pounded into Bazine like his entire psyche depended on it, because, in a way, it had. He had to show himself, and by extension, in some twisted, fucked up way, show the _girl._ To prove that she was nothing. Nothing at all. 

But it wasn’t working. It wasn’t _fucking working,_ and Kylo pounded into Bazine harder, hissing in frustration. She mistook it for pleasure, arching her back like a viper and sinking her outrageously manicured nails deeper into his back. He couldn’t help but shudder at that. Hovering above her, pinning her wrists above her head, he kept getting flashes of Bazine's twisted face. Her parted, deep, red lips. Eerily white, straight, perfect teeth, every part of her so flawless it was like she wasn’t real. Kylo didn’t like that. It felt like fucking a robot, or worst, a devil disguised as what it thought a human should look like. 

That was when he buried his face into her neck. 

And then, it all burst: images of his mind, memories of the university—and the _girl_. The innocent curiosity in her voice the first time he’d pinned her against the classroom door, how she sank to her knees that evening in his office, walking alongside her through the cobblestones of campus, the first time he saw anger and darkness in her eyes, her beautiful smile, her beautiful tears, beautiful expression when she was angry, beautiful, hateful-- 

_Fuck her,_ he thought, and then “ _fuck,”_ aloud. Bazine hummed in gratification. He resisted the urge to wrap a hand around her throat to shut her up, but then again, wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop if he tried it. He centered his focus on the rhythm of his hips, smacking them against the back of her ass as he drove himself within her parted legs. 

_I will never forgive her,_ he thought. _I’ll never fucking forgive her._

And he just kept going. 

And he found that as long as he kept his eyes shut, he could enjoy it. 

It wasn’t long before Bazine let him go. Bazine wanted him, and was self-indulgent enough to think that eventually, she’d have him in her talons completely. But even she was smart enough to know that now wasn’t the right time. That she had her job, her precious, coveted position of power. And the thought of leaving him hanging for a while...well, that was too delicious to pass up. 

But never in a million years had she considered that if she shooed him away, he wouldn’t have much cared. He’d find his solace, his distraction, somewhere else. And for a while, he did. He found one after another, beautiful, elegant women in bars, through his line of work, through his membership bought by his parents’ wealth and his own prestige. And each one was just like the last. None of them had a face that he’d be able to recognize in the morning. Whether he closed his eyes, whether he turned them around and took them from behind, shoving their faces into the pillows, it was bliss to get lost, drowning himself in every possible way that he could. 

At first, thinking of the girl during sex with other women made him feel ill. He wanted to punish himself for his obsession. An obsession with anything was only an indication of weakness. But after that first night with Bazine, he found he looked forward to it—fucking other people and imagining her in their place. He let himself be twisted on the inside. What was one more secret? 

One more thing to hide? 

But he thought that was behind him. That he’d struggled through the wastelands and could finally reap the reward. That the girl was back, and this time, it was different, and though he couldn’t say exactly what had changed, he could finally rest. That Bazine was old news, and wouldn’t come crawling back out of the depths of hell. 

He was wrong. 

He hadn’t pictured what it would have been like when they’d finally get caught, but he should have known it was coming. He swallowed thickly, feeling the girl freeze in his arms as the door clicked open, going rigid, like she’d been paralyzed. How many times had the fear of being caught ignited his senses, making every touch, every kiss, every stroke of pleasure that much more delicious? It was so ironic, he almost had to laugh. The thrill of the danger of it all had made it all the more irresistible. Had driven them to keep going, to keep risking it. Fucking in classrooms, lecture halls, offices, the great outdoors. They’d _lived_ for it. 

But now, with Bazine standing there, it was a different story entirely. Kylo felt his heart drop to his stomach, hands clenching the girl's waist. Her eyes went wide, and suddenly, she was like a statue, and just as sheet-white in the face one made out of cool marble. Kylo felt himself go cold, too, like he’d been plunged into an icy bath. He’d never really been afraid of Bazine. Because unlike so many others, he saw through her games. Everyone else in the industry feared her, but Kylo saw her for what she was: a narcissist. And there was no reason to be afraid of someone whose mind he understood. 

Not until now. 

Her eyes were narrowed as she stared at them: Kylo fully sheathed inside of the girl, clutching her at the hips. And then there was _her_ —legs spread and skirt pooling indecently at her waist, clutching his arms for support. Kylo barely registered the pain of her fingernails, having burrowed into the skin of his biceps. After a few moments of painful silence, Bazine straightened up, expression calm, eyes empty as they fell upon the girl, lips almost curled up into a smile. And she politely lilted: 

“Get out.” 

“Kylo,” she whimpered, staring up at him as if pleading for instruction. But his eyes were locked with Bazine’s. This was his fight. 

He straightened up, stuffing himself back into his pants, zipping up the fly. “Go,” he murmured, fingers still trailing her waist as he stepped away only far enough to allow her to close her shaking legs and smooth her skirt. He could feel her trembling as she readjusted her top to cover herself as much as she could. 

“ _Kylo,_ ” she pleaded, terror plain in her voice. 

“Go,” he said, tugging her against his body to wrap an arm around her shoulder, drawing her close enough so his lips were at her ear. “Trust me,” he breathed, so only she could hear, all the while, gaze boring into Bazine’s. 

He could have sworn he heard her whimper. She wasn’t much a vessel for fear anymore. She’d grown strong in her convictions and wise in the way she understood the world. Seeing her look afraid was almost seeing her in an unrecognizable light. She looked smaller. He felt a strange, primal urge to protect her. But right now, the only way to protect her was to get her as far away from Bazine as possible. 

Kylo’s entire body tensed as slowly, she made her way to the door. She moved like she was walking on top of a frozen lake, and Bazine was also there, a grizzly bear standing at the side of the bank. She seemed to shrink before the taller, lankier woman. Kylo’s eyes were glued to her back. He didn’t need to look at her face to know that she was fighting tears. His entire body was tensed. He stood on the balls of his feet, ready to move if Bazine tried anything psychotic. It would have been nearly unbelievable, but he almost thought she’d try it. 

But she didn’t. She dropped her arm from the handle of the door, staring down at the girl with an infuriatingly smug smirk on her burgundy lips as she watched her walk through the threshold. 

Kylo watched as she passed through the opening, stopped once she was in the hallway, and look back. 

Kylo’s already cold heart clenched in his chest as he read her expression. She had been emotional at times, in the past. 

Never—never _once—_ had Kylo ever seen her look terrified. 

Not until now. 

It ignited a response inside his chest that he didn’t understand. 

That was when Bazine closed the door. 

The thudding of the wood and the hissing of air through the cracks echoed once it had all gone silent. The air was painfully still. It was just him—just him and Bazine. Lanky, pale, sharp, and dark. Dark in a way that he couldn’t even put his finger on, but could recognize inexplicably and without effort. He’d never known air to feel heavy before. But here he was—feeling as though he was about to be crushed. 

“Well. I knew I’d catch you, Kylo, but I didn’t know it’d be so easy. I didn’t know your downfall would be a fault of your own,” she mimped, smile playing at her blood-red lips, eyeing her flawlessly manicured nails noncommittedly. 

Kylo stiffened, clenching and unclenching the fists that hung at his sides. 

“What do you mean you _knew?”_

“I never forget a face, Kylo,” she said, smile widening. “But the moment I heard you took our own intern out on a little...what did Grace call it? A ‘ _field_ expedition?’” She asked, closing the distance between them with long, languid steps atop long, spindly legs only covered by fabric only to the middle of her thighs. “How did we get so careless?” She whispered, relishing in the satisfaction, lips mere inches from his. 

He held his jaw tight. How long had he thought he was invincible? How long had he thought that the world was made to entertain his little affair? How long did he expect this to be able to go on? 

“Why don’t we cut to the chase, and you can tell me what it is that you want,” he snapped. “And I can tell you if it’s reasonable for me to meet those expectations.” 

“Kylo, I don’t see how you’re in a position to negotiate,” she lilted. 

He narrowed his eyes and cast them down upon her. She was tall, her legs not unlike those of a supermodel. But he was taller. “Let’s not pretend I don’t have something on you too.” 

“You mean our perfectly consensual liaisons that took place prior to your employment here? Besides, it takes two to tango, sweetest Kylo. If I go down, you go down with me, and I know for a fact there’s nothing on god’s green earth that could compel you to lose your job in a million years. We have dirt on each other. Which means instead of working _against_ each other...” Bazine smiled. He could have counted every single perfectly glistening, white tooth. “we should work hand in hand instead.” 

His eyes narrowed further, if possible. “What are you saying?” 

“I’m _saying,_ ” she pressed, batting her eyelashes, “that I don’t want to see you leave the Press. But the girl—I want _gone.”_ Only then did the flirtatious, dangerous playfulness vanish completely from her stature. Suddenly, she was cold, as cold as Kylo could be, and formidable. He swallowed thickly. 

“You’re not going to fire me,” he murmured, pondering the truth of what he was saying—as he said it. 

“Oh, I could do a lot worse than fire you. But no. Not necessarily.” 

“What do you want me to do,” he breathed. 

“Turn her in,” she replied slowly. “Tell them she coerced you. Tell them she blackmailed you. Tell them she threatened you into sleeping with her—I don’t care. Turn her in, place the blame on her, and I swear to you, your job will be secure.” 

“Whether she coerced me or not, I could have taken it to the board or to human resources long ago, and I didn’t, and that’s still grounds to fire me,” he growled. 

The light switched again, and suddenly, Bazine was smiling sweetly. “Such a small little indiscretion. I believe I’ll be able to sway our lawyers to... _overlook_ that little mistake,” she purred. “Now what do you say? The girl, or your career? The _child,_ or everything you’ve ever wanted at your fingertips” her voice dropped to a whisper, finger trailing softly across his collarbone. 

Kylo clenched his jaw. 

He never envisioned this would happen, and speaking with Bazine was never pleasant, nor was being in the same room as her. But as he marched back to his car, fisting his keys so tightly in his hand his knuckles could have snapped, for the first time in a long time, he felt that everything he’d ever wanted was at his fingertips, just as Bazine had said. 

And for the first time, he understood exactly what he had to do. 

And God, or whoever was up there, if anyone was up there at all, would have to give him the strength to do it. 


	45. But I Don’t Know If I Have the Strength to Do It

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bazine tensed as Kylo lowered himself into the plush, leather chair across from her and the lawyer at her side. “Where’s your attorney?” She asked him curtly, the upward tilt of her voice betraying the secrecy of their plan. 
> 
> “I don’t need an attorney,” Kylo replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys!!!!! hi. super excited for this chapter, and for the last two to come.
> 
> I just wanted to give you a heads up that I will be publishing a chapter of end notes before I release the final chapter, because frankly, they are too damn long to put in the chapter notes. So be sure to check those out for acknowledgements (and announcements, wink wink) and know that after the end notes chapter drops, there will still be one final chapter after that. So don't freak out and think it's already over when I publish the end notes.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading, commenting, and all of that good stuff. Love you guys!

“Can I get you anything while you wait?” 

Grace didn’t meet your eyes when she spoke, pouring you a glass of water from the Brita filter at the bar without waiting for an answer. 

You tried to thank her when she set it on the table in front of you, but you choked on your own vocal cords, and could only swallow thickly instead. 

“Can I uh...” you cleared your throat, shocked by how hoarse and dry your voice sounded. Not only did you sound choked, but you also sounded like you’d aged about a decade. And that checked out—it was pretty much how you felt, too. “Should I...I mean, I’d just like the chance to defend myself.” Only then did you find the courage to meet her gaze. Only then did she find the courage to meet yours. You weren’t sure if she pitied you, or if she’d played some part in all this. Perhaps both. 

She gave you the saddest of smiles, an expression that brimmed with sympathy, or maybe guilt. 

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” she told you. “This won't take very long.” 

When Grace exited the room, she shut the door behind her. You didn’t touch the glass of water she’d laid out for you, but felt grateful for the gesture. But just the thought of putting anything down your throat and into your stomach made you feel sick. You kept your eyes glued to the wall across from you. The floor-to-ceiling glass walls of the conference room made you so feel exposed you may as well have been naked. You thought about what all the employees must have been thinking as they passed by in the hallway—“that’s her. That’s the girl who slept with the editor-in-chief.” 

This was where you’d filled out your paperwork on your first day, you recalled. It was the smallest of the three conference rooms. You’d been here to confirm your employment at the Bulletin. You knew that down the hallway, Kylo was in conference room A, with a lawyer at his side. And this knowledge was only from what you were able to extract from Grace and Cora. Kylo didn’t even have the decency to tell you anything. 

He hadn’t said a word to you since last night. 

It should have brought you comfort to know that if you were going down, at least he was going down with you. But it didn’t. You never expected he’d be the one to ruin you, but perhaps you should have. And it brought you more sadness than you cared to admit that not only would he never work in the city of Boston, but that he would never teach again, either. 

How had you gotten here? How had you let this happen? How had you let him destroy you like this? When you pictured your inevitable sacking, you’d envisioned a lot of tears, maybe a good screaming match. But Kylo wasn’t even there to fight with. You were alone, sitting at the head of the table in conference room B, hands clasped together on top of the cold wood. The blood had drained from your face, but otherwise, you were empty. Otherwise, you didn’t feel a thing. 

━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━ 

People tended to underestimate Kylo, which was shocking, because they tended to appreciate his many competencies, too. He didn’t try and picture what the girl was thinking and feeling in this moment. He was sure that she was disappointed in him, and felt betrayed. That was understandable. But he couldn’t bother to be thinking about that in the present moment. 

So he knew it would probably damn him—the way his eyes kept darting towards the door of conference room A, knowing that she was just down the hallway, completely oblivious to what was occurring just paces away. He wondered if she was more angry or sad. If her lower lip was trembling the way it did when she was so furious she could cry, or if her skin had gone blotchy and eyes had gone wide the way they did when she was on the verge of a breakdown. A part of him felt sick for cherishing her negative emotions just as much as he cherished the positive ones. But he couldn’t help it—couldn't help the way he still longed to kiss her when he cried, couldn’t help that every time she raised her voice at him, lifting herself onto the tips of her toes to glare straight into his cold eyes, all he wanted to do was to crush her up against a wall and have his way. 

Bazine tensed as Kylo lowered himself into the plush, leather chair across from her and the lawyer at her side. “Where’s your attorney?” She asked him curtly, the upward tilt of her voice betraying the secrecy of their plan. 

“I don’t need an attorney,” Kylo replied. He held up a hand at the corporate lawyer, who opened his mouth to speak. Kylo cut him off: “I understand I have a right to one, and I’ve chosen to opt out. This will be quick,” he said, waving the thought away with a hand. 

His eyes locked with Bazine’s, and he nodded. She relaxed, and nodded back, gesturing for her lawyer to proceed. 

“Mister Ren,” he began. “As you know, you are the editor-in-chief of the Boston Press and its associated branches, among which, is the Boston Bulletin. You’re here because you have filed a claim with Miss Bazine Netal, talent coordinator of the Boston Press, alleging that an employee coerced you into performing acts of a sexual nature against your wishes and better judgement. Does that sound correct?” 

“Yes, it does,” he answered darkly, folding his hands and setting them neatly on the tabletop. He tried to ignore the thin smirk twitching onto Bazine’s otherwise delicate features. She just couldn’t swallow it down, even when she was trying to be covert. 

“Mr. Ren, I’m going to ask you a series of questions. Remember that you are under oath, and as such, are required by law to answer them truthfully, to the best of your ability.” 

“Yes, sir,” Ren replied stoically. 

“Very good, then. Have you ever engaged in any acts of a sexual nature with an employee of the Bulletin or the Press during the course of your employment, spanning the last seven months?” 

He looked to Bazine. She looked like she was about to fall out of her chair from excitement. Gaze boring into his, she nodded. 

“Yes,” Kylo responded blankly. 

The lawyer looked down to his binder, scribbling in a few notes before raising his gaze to Kylo once again. “And is it the case that this employee coerced you, threatening any aspect of your job, livelihood, or well-being, in exchange for these acts?” 

“It is.” 

The attorney returned to his notepad, making a much briefer note, before his eyes landed upon Kylo once again. 

“Can you please name this employee?” 

Kylo lifted his chin. 

“Bazine Netal.” 

Everything happened next was an eruption. Bazine’s jaw falling open was the last moment of peace before the blow came—“what?!” she screeched, standing up, and fuming so forcefully Kylo could almost see smoke pouring from her ears. 

“Miss Netal, I suggest you say nothing further.” The attorney snapped the binder shut and flew to his feet, shoving his notes back into his briefcase as if they, too, were now incriminating. 

“How dare you!” 

“Is this on record?” Asked the secretary, scribbling furiously into her notes. 

“Don’t write another fucking thing,” Bazine snapped. 

The secretary stood to, holding her notes closely to her chest, bless her, glaring at Bazine from across the room. “That’s against protocol.” 

Everyone was on their feet, everyone arguing, hollering across the room. Everyone except Kylo. Kylo, who sat calmly at the head of the table. Kylo, who clasped his hands atop the surface, staring at them as if doing so would give him even a shred of guidance. Kylo, who let the chaos erupt around him. Kylo, floating in the middle of it all. He stayed that way—stoic and still—until the corporate lawyer all but dragged Bazine from the room. He stayed that way until the secretary had nervously approached him to ask if he was alright, if he needed anything, what she should do next. And he stayed that way after he’d waved her from the room, and he was alone. 

People tended to underestimate him. 

Bazine would never make that mistake again 

━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━ 

You’d picked and chewed your fingernails down to the nub by the time Grace returned. For the past hour and a half, you’d been wondering what the hell had happened in that conference room, and for all of that time, they’d kept you locked in isolation. The blank, depressing defeat you’d felt earlier than morning was long gone. In its place was a crippling anxiety. 

At least you were starting to feel more like yourself again. 

“What’s going on?” You asked when Grace entered the room. 

She sighed, looking at you with the upmost sympathy, but you couldn’t help but note that she looked as exhausted as you felt. You’d heard shouting down the hallway earlier. Whatever had happened in that conference room had caused a concerning amount of upheaval. 

And it was all because of you. 

You sucked in your breath and held it in your chest as you waited for her to answer. “You’ve been exonerated. There will be no trial. The claims against you have been found unreliable and baseless,” she said. Immediately, you sighed, collapsing back into your chair. The tension in your body seemed to fizzle out of your muscles and seep through your skin. Finally, you could relax halfway. 

It didn’t change the fact that there would still be consequences. Even if you’d been exonerated, Bazine’s claims were still public knowledge. You looked out the window, feeling considerably lighter, but couldn’t help but wonder if Grace was thinking, “did she or didn’t she?” as she delivered the news of your exoneration. 

But no corporate trial. At least there was that. You sat in the comfort that Grace’s news could provide. And you waited for what would come next. 

━━━┓ ✠ ┏━━━ 

“I only wish to speak with her.” 

The girl had risen to her feet when Kylo had entered the conference room. Grace was barring the doorway; he couldn’t tell if she was acting as a bodyguard or a prison warden. A part of him wondered how it must have looked—the girl flinging to a standing position at the first sight of him. But Grace had no way of knowing what had conspired in between bedsheets, classrooms, in his very office. All Grace do was speculate—speculate if the two of them really knew each other as much as they’d been accused of. That was the beauty of it all, he supposed. That Bazine only had Kylo’s word, and no concrete proof. 

That by some miracle, he’d betrayed her. 

But the truth was, he’d chosen his loyalties long ago. 

“Sir...given the circumstances, I don’t think that’s the best of ideas.” 

He squared his jaw. “I would like to personally apologize to my employee for the slander spread about her by Miss Netal. And as we now know it's baseless and false, I would appreciate it if you could remove yourself from the room so I can attempt begin to make amends for the distress she’s suffered at the hands of certain employees of the Press—including you, Miss Horne, unless I heard incorrectly, and you weren’t the individual who reported her to the talent coordinator.” 

Grace blushed fiercely before ducking out of the room. 

If it were up to Kylo, her days at the Press would be numbered. But the world wasn't that fair. As he lowered himself to the chair closest to the girl, he pondered the reality that his own days at the Press were numbered. Bazine would be gone. But the scandal of it all was too much. Now that the whisperings had begun, they wouldn’t stop. The slate would have to be wiped clean, and just as Bazine would be removed from the canvas, so would Kylo. 

So would the girl. 

She lowered herself back into her seat, eyeing Kylo carefully as he leaned forward, propping his elbows on his thighs, giving her a long, hard look. He saw that her eyes weren’t red and blotchy like he thought they’d be. Instead, they were riddled with dark circles. She looked tired. And yet still impossibly beautiful. 

“I’ve heard there’s not going to be a trial.” 

“There won’t be,” he confirmed. He’d been in the conference room with the executives and two lawyers for the better part of the morning ensuring that wouldn’t be the case. 

“Have you been fired?” She whispered. 

Kylo inhaled. “It’s been...suggested that it’s in everyone’s best interest if I resigned,” he confessed, meeting her eyes. “I agreed.” 

“You didn’t say anything,” she whispered, and then cleared her throat. “You could have told me what you were planning. We could have figured this out together.” 

Kylo shook his head, looked down at his hands and slowly rubbed them together, wondering deep down if he’d handled the situation as he should have. “This was my fight,” he told her after a pause. “I knew I needed to handle it. And I didn’t want you wrapped up in all of it if it had gone wrong.” 

“But you could have kept me informed. Could have told me what was going on instead of making me think...” her voice broke, and she cleared her throat once more. “Instead of making me think I’d lost you again.” 

Kylo said nothing, but his gaze rose to hers once again. Once it was there, he saw something in her face change. Where she’d looked strong and staunch only moments ago, now, her brows softened, and her eyes seemed to grow glassy. 

“You didn’t know if you were going to do it,” she breathed. “You didn’t know if you were going to give her up, or me.” 

“No,” he breathed, pinching his brow. “I knew exactly what I had to do.” 

“But you didn’t know if you had the strength to do it.” 

Kylo sighed, hands twitching forward towards hers, and then realizing how tall the windows were, that any passersby would be able to see. He wanted nothing more than to take her out of there. To sweep her away from all of them, and return to the brownstone they’d shared so many nights in already, safe and tucked away and alone. 

“I told you that nothing would ever take you from me,” he reminded her. “And nothing ever will.” 

Her eyes twitched, like she was being stung by rising tears. Sniffling, she looked away, hands wringing in her lap. “I don’t understand why you couldn’t have told me.” 

Kylo exhaled through his nose, letting his eyes fall shut. “I knew you wouldn't let me do it. I knew you wouldn’t let me sacrifice my position. I knew you’d want to save me, but you have to know that I’m not meant to be saved.” 

Her brow was drawn when she turned back to him. She, too, twitched forward, like she wanted to draw him into her arms. Thankfully, she stopped herself. 

“Ending Bazine’s career was the best that I could do, but it won’t have made things easy for us. It’s likely they’ll find a way to get rid of you, too, and that’s my fault. If we had never gotten involved, your position here would be secure. Even though you’ve been exonerated, the gossip is already buzzing in the hallways. The Bulletin is no longer safe for you. I’m sorry.” 

Her lower lip trembled. It was wet and plush. He wanted nothing more than you dive forward and take it into his own mouth, to gently sink his teeth down around the warm flesh, to feel her tongue driving against him. He cleared his throat, trying to banish the thought into the back of his mind. 

“Not being with you was never an option for me,” she said suddenly. “You did what you had to do.” 

Kylo’s mouth twitched, and he cleared his throat. He rose to his feet before he could get another impulse. Whether the impulse would be to throw her against the table just so he could touch her skin, or whether it would be to break down, he wasn’t sure. But his fingers were buzzing with an itch to do something. Best to remove himself while he still could. 

“I like to think that if I could have foreseen this, I would have controlled myself. I would have resisted you. But I honestly don’t know if there’s any truth to that anymore,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Why are you acting like you’re saying goodbye,” she breathed through gritted teeth. He was scaring her, he realized. He narrowde his eyes at her. 

Kylo sighed. His fingers twitched again. Curse those fucking windows; all he wanted was to bring her into his arms, even if just for a moment. To feel that for a split-second, he was protecting her. 

“I think we should take some time to ourselves. Only temporarily,” he elaborated quickly when her eyes went wide. “I will be done here in two weeks. During that time, I don’t want anyone breathing down our necks. I can’t give them the chance to damage your reputation, or distress you any more than they already have.” 

He watched as the girl sighed with relief. Her eyes bore into his. He knew she didn’t want this, but he also knew that it was only temporary. And it was what he needed to do to keep her safe. 

“But during that time...you’ll wait for me. You’ll wait for my call,” he told her. “Won’t you?” 

The girl’s eyes fluttered, as if she was trying to stave off tears. But she nodded. 

He took a step forward. It was as close as he could safely come. He fought the urge to reach out and touch the side of her face, to feel a strand of her hair in between his fingers. 

“Wait for me,” he told her, voice low and quiet and calm. 

Her eyes flickered upwards. Her lips parted. Kylo's breath kicked in his throat. Finally, her expression softened, and he could feel at least a shred of relief. 

“Don’t make me wait too long,” she said. 

“I never could,” he told her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO CHAPTERS LEFT!! I AM ~distressed~


	46. I Feel It Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Any remaining air in your chest stuttered and died. For a moment, you were still, a part of you nervous. But no part of you was willing to stop, willing to hold back. You’d follow him down to hell, if he asked—on your knees, or otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Regarding BDSM/rough sex 
> 
> Hey guys. I know I said that I would include safewords later on in this fic, but now that we’re here, I simply can’t justify that decision. It just doesn't feel right for this story. While Kylo has no intention to hurt Y/N, my interpretation of him as a character is that he would not be well-versed in the world of proper, safe BDSM. He’s too much of a loose cannon, and I believe he’s been engrossed in more dangerous/risky sexual behaviors. If that bothers you in any way, I would kindly ask that you steer clear of this chapter, and please be aware that it’s a creative/character choice on my end. What follows should not be practiced in real life. 
> 
> Adam Sackler has entered the chat. 
> 
> S/O to @theevilded on tiktok for giving me the idea for the book Kylo’s reading!

“I wonder how things will change for me. When you’ve left this place. When you’ve moved on, and all I have left of you is the memory of you walking these very cobblestone streets.” 

Mid-motion, you stopped, halting your mug of coffee just before it met your lips, quirking your brow at Hux. “We’re feeling very dramatic today, aren’t we?” You mused. 

Armitage leaned back in his chair, staring up at the sky. You watched the steam from his tea curl up into the air and lick the sides of his jaw. “I’ve been getting back into Jane Austen.” 

“Ah,” you replied. “There it is. Why are you even thinking about that? It’s barely even November. Graduation is practically eons away.” 

“I don’t know,” he mused. “I guess your sacking from the Bulletin got the wheels turning about your inevitable departure.” 

“Okay. First of all—I wasn’t _sacked._ I _resigned.”_

“Preemptively.” 

“Second of all,” you continued, ignoring him, “when I’m finally out of here, your life is probably going to get a hell of a lot more peaceful.” 

“That’s actually true.” 

You bit back a laugh for the sake of saving face, pretending to be mad at him, even though you knew he wouldn’t buy it for a second. “Can we just...let’s not talk about goodbyes. Okay? Graduation is months away. And besides, even after I’m gone, I’m not going to fall off the face of the planet. I’ll still be here for you.” 

The two of you shared a grin, and a handful of silence. You stared at him warmly. Things had almost ended up very differently for the two of you. But you liked where you were now, goodbyes and endings be damned. 

“Besides, when I’m gone, you’ll probably have wriggled your way into the English department where you belong.” 

“Even if that’s the case, I do think I’ll miss the excitement. For as long as I’ve known you, I’ve in turn never known a moment of peace.” The words were somewhat cold, but his eyes entirely gentle. He was so insurmountably different than how you remembered him on the day you’d met, the first time you’d spoken. You liked how things had ended up. 

“Screw you, Hux,” you snapped, sitting up straight and tilting your head back in an attempt to drain the tears that were threatening to prickle at your eyes. “It’s way too early for this. We still have plenty of time.” 

Your phone buzzed, and you glanced down. Your breath kicked in your chest. This would be the second time in recent memory you’d ditched Hux early in favor of Kylo, but you’d been waiting for this message for _three weeks._

“Shit,” you breathed. 

“It’s him, isn’t it?” 

You lifted your eyes, and they landed on Armitage. He was lightly thumbing the rim of his glass, staring into his tea. You didn’t need to answer. He just nodded. You sighed as you stood up, eying him carefully. 

“You still don’t understand it, do you? What I see in him?” 

Armitage lifted his eyes. You could make out half a smile on his pale lips. He looked kind, if a little sad. “I’ve never understood you at all. I think that’s why I like you.” 

You left Hux at the Coffee House with a promise that you’d reschedule the rest of your visit for next week. The sun was already setting by the time you found yourself jogging to your car, tossing your bag into the passenger’s seat with the regard one may pay a piece of trash, before peeling out of the parking lot. 

Three weeks. Three weeks without a word. Three weeks, getting by on nothing but his promise that it wasn’t over. You wanted to trust him. And you did—or _most_ of you did. You simply couldn’t pretend that taking the leap of faith wasn’t completely terrifying. 

Especially given the fact that his two weeks had come and passed along with his resignation. But to be fair, you couldn’t pretend that you knew what kinds of arrangements he was making for his future. It didn’t stop the fact that every day that passed filled you with a mounting sense of anxiety. 

Until now. Until this.

 _Come over. Door’s unlocked._

When you pulled up to the familiar brownstone, your nerves felt fresh and brand-new. You’d done this a hundred times. And you’d been anxious for all of them. But this was the first time you were blindly trusting Kylo Ren. This was the first time showing up since he’d declared you and him were something different now, something _more._ It was terrifying, the thought that maybe he’d changed his mind. 

It was terrifying that maybe he hadn’t. 

True to his word, Kylo had left the door unlocked. That only meant one thing—he was in his study. Your fingers trembled over the railing as you climbed the foyer to the third floor. Just as you’d predicted, all of the lights were off. All of them besides one. A dim, golden glow pooled out of his office, illuminating the carpet. You held your breath as you approached, looking carefully inside. 

He was sitting in one of the plush leather armchairs, a book in hand. The only source of light came from a table-lamp. He was wearing his glasses. You couldn’t remember the last time you saw him wearing them. And you had never once seen him seated anywhere other than at his desk. You supposed that now he was in between jobs, he didn’t have any actual work to do. He could just relax. Was Kylo Ren capable of relaxation? 

“ _Troilus and Cressida_ ,” you breathed, nodding towards the book placing yourself gingerly in the doorway. “Shakespeare or Chaucer?” 

Kylo lifted his gaze the moment he heard the floorboards creak under your feet, and it didn’t leave your face. He set the book down on the end table, along with his glasses. "Shakespeare," he said. You watched how his hair gently flopped onto his forehead once he’d removed them. Your heart stuttered in your chest. 

He stood, and you held your breath as he approached you—slowly. You had a million things to ask him. You wondered if perhaps he could sense your nerves. Declaring your relationship only to almost immediately have to take a break that lasted nearly a month...well, to be fair, it left you with questions. 

But the moment he placed himself in front of you, the fear was gone. You couldn’t explain why. You didn’t know why every thought had vanished from your head, why you felt an inexplicable calm you didn’t recognize. 

Without sharing so much as a word with him, you suddenly felt more at peace than you had in a long time. 

“You came back,” he mumbled, running his thumb down the length of a strand of your hair. 

“Did you think I wouldn’t?” 

His lips were slightly pursed as he examined you, eyes narrowing, brow knit in the familiar curiosity he wore when he was reading you intently. “No,” he said, once the silence had run its course. “I believed that you would. But I also believe that my extended absence might’ve worried you.” 

You chewed the inside of your cheek, unable to break your gaze away from him. You _had_ been worried. There was a time when you’d put your faith in him, and you’d been disappointed nearly to the point of ruin. But that was behind you. 

“I figured you probably needed the time.” 

Kylo released his touch, and leaned back against his desk. He looked so organic like this—standing in a study, surrounded by great works of literature, button-down shirt rolled up to his elbows, glasses sitting gingerly in the pages of a book on an end table, arms folded protectively over his own chest. “I went home for a few days,” he explained. “It was good to just disconnect for a while. Explain to my family what’s going on.” 

“And what did you tell them?” 

“I told them that a former engagement with my boss resulted in my resignation. I told them the truth.” 

The truth didn’t tend to omit such imperative details, but you didn’t press him. 

“What matters now,” he continued. “Is that I have a clean slate. My time is my own again. And I can do whatever I want.” 

“Which is?” You inquired. 

He tilted his head, staring at you. “In the immediate sense?” You could have sworn you saw something black flicker behind both of his eyes. He didn’t speak. But he didn’t need to. He answered your question anyway. 

Leaning back on the desk, Kylo raised his hand. And with two fingers, he motioned for you to come forward. Your throat clenched as you were brought back to a similarly crisp fall day, a little over a year ago, when you were just a student with a crush and little to no ambition. 

Everything had changed. 

Everything. 

And yet, nothing at all. 

You swallowed thickly as you crossed the room to land in front of him. His hands found your hips and you forgot how to breathe. 

“And, uh-” you cleared your throat. “In the not-so-immediate sense?” You whispered. 

Kylo took your chin in your fingers, lifting your head so you were forced to meet his eyes. “Are you worried I’ll leave you again?” His voice was low and gravelly. 

Your eyelashes fluttered, and you didn’t know what to say. 

“No,” he purred. “I’m not going anywhere. You already know that you’re mine.” 

His hands trailed upwards. The moment they were encasing your ribcage was the same moment you knew you were a lost cause. Your eyes fluttered shut. And everything else was gone. 

He captured your mouth, drawing you in, arms encircling your body. Your breath hitched, your mind melted, and the only sensation that enraptured you as much as the kiss was the feeling of every nerve in your body standing on end, sparking within your skin. 

He gripped you tighter. You clawed at his collar, pressing him equally as hard against you. He growled lowly as you sighed against his lips. He’d missed this. He needed this. You both did. 

Kylo pulled away only long enough to peel the sweater off of your body. You felt your hair graze between your shoulder blades as it tumbled down, and Kylo forced your skirt down your ankles. You kicked off your shoes, and the moment you were free of your clothes, you were on him again. 

Half-naked, you pressed against his body, hands against his chest, moving upwards to curl into his hair. You clutched him within trembling fingers, and a full-bodied moan escaped your throat, landing within his lips. 

Far too soon, Kylo pushed you away—by your throat. His grip was gentle, but only just barely. You knew with the slightest flex of his fingers, he’d constrict your airway. Your belly pooled with excitement. Every inch of you was growing warm, every crevice of your body quaking with desire. 

Though he’d separated your bodies, his lips were mere inches away. You wanted them back. Wanted to feel them trailing your skin, gentle until he could no longer control his impulses. You thought of the bitemarks he’d left behind so many times before. And you ached for the same pain, the same intensity. 

“I asked you once to give into me,” he breathed. You roiled at the memory. It was a conversation you would never forget for as long as you’d live. 

You managed a nod, squeezing your legs together in a sad attempt to quell the desperate need for friction at your sex. 

“I’m asking you again.” 

You melted, body quaking, and it was a struggle to stay standing. The only thing keeping you afloat was Kylo’s fingers. With the slightest clench, he threatened to grip you tighter. It was your one solace. 

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please. Please take me.” 

“However I want?” 

“And more.” Your breath almost failed. You felt as if you were about to float away, woozy and drunk off of desire. 

But then, his voice. Pulling you out of the depths of incoherent lust. Just barely. Just enough. 

“ _Good_.” 

You whimpered in response. 

“I also told you once that I knew you’d come crawling back to me.” 

You knit your brow, wondering where he was going with this. Almost in the same instant, you remembered. Your brows lifted in desire, lips parted with curiosity. 

In a suddenly violent, swift motion, Kylo lunged forward, forcing you backwards. You stumbled as he shoved you carelessly into the hallway, his grip never relenting. It stayed as cold and commanding as ever. The touch you needed. The touch you couldn’t live without. 

“So get on your fucking knees.” His voice was low and calm but entirely threatening. 

Any remaining air in your chest stuttered and died. For a moment, you were still, a part of you nervous. But no part of you was willing to stop, willing to hold back. You’d follow him down to hell, if he asked—on your knees, or otherwise. 

Exhaling, you sank to your knees, never once breaking contact with his eyes, feeling his fingers slip from your neck. He watched you descend, and a part of him darkened. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, teeth nearly bared. After only a moment of stillness, he knelt before you, and took your jaw in his hand. 

“Do you want me to fuck you tonight?” 

You moaned audibly, and shut your eyes at the shame. But even so, you managed a nod, face grimacing from a desire that made you physically ache. 

“Then I want you to crawl to my bed like the good girl I know you can be. Are you going to be a good girl for me tonight?” You could feel his breath fan across your face. It was nothing short of intoxicating. 

Lip trembling, you opened your eyes once more. And again, you nodded. 

His eyes bore into yours so forcefully and intently, you weren’t sure what to expect. He gave your cheek a light slap—approval, you realized—before rising to his feet, positioning himself behind you. 

You took a deep breath, feeling exposed, and nearly scaring yourself for still wanting it so badly. Kylo was behind you. Watching every move. 

The mere thought of his gaze struck fear into your heart. But the thought of pleasing him... 

That did something else entirely. 

You began to crawl, holding your breath. The hardwood floor bit at your bony knees, but you didn’t stop. It was so quiet, save for the sound of your heartbeat battering in your ears, that you could hear everything else. You could hear the floor creaking where he was following from behind you. You imagined him watching your ass, bare in its revealing thong, and pictured him aching with desire, too. 

Palms repeatedly found the floor in front of you, and you moved slowly, carefully, knowing exactly what he wanted from you, what he wanted to see. You crawled like your life depended on it. You crawled like you belonged to him, because you knew that you did. You crawled so he could watch you. You crawled because you were his good girl. 

You crawled until you reached the bedroom. 

Before you could so much as inhale, Kylo was upon you, kneeling from behind your body, wrapping a hand around your neck and wrenching your head upwards. You gasped, and the air caught in your throat, strained muscles squeezing it down. You felt his lips at your ear before he even spoke. 

“From now on, you’re _mine,_ do you understand me? You belong to _me,”_ he growled, gripping your throat. 

You shut your eyes. The fear, the desire—they mingled together. And it was irresistible. 

“ _Answer me,”_ he growled viscously. 

“Yes!” You stammered, lips quivering. “Yes, _please,_ I belong to you.” 

“Good girl.” Kylo stroked your hair. Your throat burned. 

In the next instant, he released you only long enough to stand, gripping you by the arm to force you to your feet. You gasped as you landed against his chest, where he held you snug and tight. You could feel his heart hammering against yours. And you were melting beneath his grip. 

He released you with one hand only to trail the hem of your panties. “You’re mine,” he reminded you. “I think I need to be sure the message sinks in.” He pulled away, studying your face. And he quirked a brow. Condescending. The only man you knew who could wear that infuriating expression to deliciously. 

Your eyes were wide, but you nodded. 

Kylo took a step back, letting his eyes trailed down the entire length of your body before they made their way back up again, drinking in every inch of your exposed skin. “Bra.” The command was incomplete, but perfectly clear. 

You slipped your arms behind your back to relieve yourself of the garment. 

He nodded to your panties. Excitement mounted within your belly, the sensation sudden and overtaking. You slipped them down your hips, down your legs, and they fell to the floor, fabric pooling at your feet. 

“Sit on the bed,” he told you coldly. You did so. And you watched as his fingers moved to his belt. The unbuckling wasn’t what startled you. But when he slipped it from the loops of his pants entirely, you stopped breathing. 

Your jaw went slack as you took him in—shirt sleeves rolled up to rest just above his elbows, his belt folded in his hand. 

_God, have mercy._

He stepped forward, taking your chin in between his thumb and forefinger. You gulped. “Do you trust me?” He asked. 

You exhaled. _More than anything._

You settled with a nod. 

"Do you want this?” He asked, waving the belt. 

You could barely breathe. 

“Yes,” you managed. Only barely. 

“Then lie face-down on the bed.” 

Your body stuttered as you followed his orders, feeling your front go flat against the mattress. You felt him sink down onto the edge of the bed. You realized you’d given up trying to breathe altogether. 

“If the pain is too much, tell me. Otherwise,” he warned you roughly, yanking you across his lap. “I want to hear you thank me for each one.” 

The impact came without warning. You gasped as the leather cracked against the bare skin of your ass, blinding you with pain, but somehow making you drip with want. You wriggled in his lap, wincing at the sting all the same. “Thank you,” you managed. 

He ran a hand over an ass cheek, squeezing just barely, only enough so it would bite against your sensitive skin. “Good girl,” he growled. 

And then the second impact came. The leather cracked through the air, snapping against your backside. You could have sworn you heard Kylo groan from behind you, merely at the sight of the ass he was ravaging. But you couldn’t have said for sure. Your ears were ringing. 

“Thank you,” you choked. 

“Thank you, what?” 

“Thank you, Mr. Ren.” 

At that, he hummed in approval, stroking the backs of his fingers down the backs of your thighs. You relaxed under his touch. 

_CRACK. CRACK._ _CRACK_. 

The first one hit the spot his fingers were trailing, just at the tops of your thighs. 

The second and third struck your ass once again, stacking one sharp layer of pain on top of another. 

And the pain was blinding. There was no way he wasn’t drawing blood. But you couldn’t be sure—wouldn't have been able to distinguish one kind of wetness for another. You could feel your own arousal beginning to roll down the insides of your thighs. Kylo took notice, dragging the leather strip up your sex. You tensed. 

He spanked you again. The leather whipped through the air and struck your ass with a biting blur of pain. 

“What do you say?” He growled. 

“Thank you!” You stammered, tears pricking down your eyes, voice reduced to nothing but a whimper. “Thank you. _Thank you.”_

“Had enough?” Kylo leaned down to breath against your ear, voice ripping through the air, gravelly and dangerous. You shuddered as his breath fluttered your hair. 

Whimpering, you nodded, feeling tears spill over your cheeks. 

“You want your daddy to fuck you?” 

Your arousal seized you, and you whimpered again, this time in shock, as the tears began to drip into the mattress. You wriggled on top of his lap, brushing against the hardness in his pants. 

Another crack—this time, the belt whipped your pussy. Tingling shockwaves gripped your sex and exploded outward, shooting through every nerve in your body. You cried out, jaw hanging slack as you sobbed with desire and agony. 

He fisted a handful of your hair, wrenching against your scalp. You hissed and arched your back as he forced your head upwards. 

“Please,” you begged. 

His fingers tightened. Your scalp screamed in pain. “I know you can do better than that.” 

You exhaled shakily. 

“Please fuck me, daddy.” 

You thought you heard him hum in approval. But you couldn’t be sure of anything anymore. You felt him snake a hand down the raw skin of your ass. It burned at the touch. “Good girl,” he breathed, and flipped you roughly onto your back. 

He threw himself on top of you, lips finding yours. He kissed you like it was a punishment, like he was smothering your filthy mouth, making you prove just how bad you were. And given the way you parted your lips and slipped your tongue against his, it seemed to be a good strategy. You groaned and bucked your hips upward until they were flush with his. He growled against your mouth, and your fingers darted madly to his shirt. You fumbled with the buttons only for the few seconds before you wrenched them open, hearing them spring off the fabric and clatter to the floor. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t afford another. 

You sighed as your fingers found the bare skin of his chest at last, rolling the garment off of his shoulders. He flung it to the side and sat up only to unbutton his pants. He forced them down his hips, pulling his cock free at last. You stopped breathing for the umpteenth time that night. But watching him—straddling your body, languidly stroking his own cock, precum drenching his fingers—it nearly killed you. 

Gulping, you stared at him, wide-eyed and waiting. He lowered himself onto you once again, so close that his nose brushed against yours. 

And then, lining up his dripping cock to your entrance, he plunged into you. 

You gasped, and he slung one of your legs over his shoulder. Immediately, you felt yourself take him deeper, and whimpered in response. He drew himself out only to thrust back in, and your eyes all but rolled back in your head. He found his rhythm, forceful and rough as always, but so unbelievably and outrageously perfect that each time was somehow more enrapturing than the last. 

He braced one hand on the mattress and the other around the ankle that rested on his shoulder. The muscles in your thigh were screaming, but you watched—head bowed, hair draping downward, nearly grazing your face, jaw hanging slack. The mere sight of him was enough to warm the depths of your body. And as you were watching him, you noticed that he was watching you intently, eyes glued to your swollen lips, your bouncing chest. He was drinking you in. And he’d gone radio silent, save for the ragged breaths ripping from his chest. Until— 

“Play with yourself,” he ordered darkly. His chest heaved, and you could see the monster underneath, the beast about to break through. It flooded you with excitement, and without a second to lose, your fingers flew to your clit and you rubbed rapid circles over your sizzling nerves. 

You arched your back, and for a while, Kylo watched you, groaning your name and panting heavily. Just when you thought you were growing too warm, he rolled off of you, standing at the side of the bed. 

“Bend over the bed.” His voice made you dizzy, and warmth sparked in your chest and throat. Still, you stood, bending over the bed like he’d told you to do, ass in the air, arms braced on the mattress. 

You were so wet that he slid into you with ease, but your cunt was still remarkably tight around his outrageous size. You groaned at the tension. 

Kylo reached forward, fingers darting towards your clit. Your breath hitched and you exhaled on a breathy moan as he began to work circles around it. The pressure at your sex paired with the cock pounding inside of you was blinding. 

“Fuck,” he groaned against your ear. “Such a good fucking girl for me. Such a dirty thing.” 

You cried out, and the walls of your cunt fluttered. You were drenching his thighs with your arousal. 

With his free hand, he smacked your right ass cheek. Before you even remembered why the pain was so blinding, you released a full-bodied scream, face scrunching up in agony. The skin of your ass prickled, fresh and raw. Your legs trembled. “ _God, yes,”_ you cried, the sounds of his hips slapping against your ass driving you to madness. 

“Yeah? That’s how you like it, right?” 

Another smack. And another scream. More blinding pain on your raw, abused skin, but more building, overwhelming pleasure. He was pounding you at a rapid, unforgiving pace 

You couldn’t breathe. Your chest bloomed with heat. There was fire beneath your skin. 

“You like it when I fuck you like the slut you are, huh? Like it when I pound your cunt for all it’s worth? _Fucking whore! Is that how you like it?_ ” 

“ _Yes!”_ You screamed, fresh tears mingling with the sweat on your face. 

You couldn’t discern the spanking from the thrusts. Soon, it didn’t matter. There was nothing but overwhelming stimulation, and you reached your peak. Crying out through your orgasm, you struggled to stand as your legs buckled. Your cunt was swollen and buzzing beneath Kylo’s fingers. Heat coursed through your body, seizing every inch of you. You came until you thought you were about to lose consciousness. And when you finally collapsed onto the bed, you realized that Kylo was far from over. 

His hips hadn’t stopped snapping against you at the same brutal pace, but you could tell he was close behind you. He was well past the point of no return—he’d gone feral and mad. He’d become the beast once more. 

Suddenly, he threw you onto the bed. You flopped against the mattress but he pinned you down, flipping you onto your stomach and taking you from behind. You were nearly flat against the mattress, back arched so you could still take him without being on your hands and knees. Kylo’s hips quickly found the same pace, and his lips went to your ear. 

Whimpering, you inexplicably found yourself bucking your hips, desiring more friction, fresh off your climax, still wanting more of him. 

“Yeah, that’s it. A fucking slut like you can’t get enough. Do you fuck all of your teachers, or just the ones who know how to pound you good enough so you’re left a pathetic, dribbling mess?” 

Moaning and whimpering, you arched your back to take him deeper. He hissed into your ear. You were growing delirious. 

Your hand flew to your clit again, pinned between your hips and the mattress. You stroked yourself roughly as Kylo pounded you from behind. He moaned against your ear, expletives escaping from his lips through clenched teeth. Every ounce of control left in his body was simmering, ready to explode at any moment. You were impossibly hot, drenched, dripping, and somehow, still mad with hunger. 

“You want me to cum in this pussy?” He growled. 

You moaned into the mattress, releasing a sob. “Please,” you begged. “I want to feel you.” 

“Slut,” he seethed again. You tensed. He’d lost himself. You were about to lose yourself, too, all over again. “Tell me who you belong to.” 

You screamed his name, and unraveled all over again. You came blindly, eyes squeezed shut, throat raw, as Kylo released himself inside of you with a final roar. He thrust you so deeply you could nearly feel him in your throat, pounding himself through the strokes of his orgasm, flooding your cunt. By the time his hips were finally still, you were whimpered, growing limp against the mattress. Your body sizzled with the after-waves of pleasure, your cunt throbbing even after you withdrew your fingers. 

Shutting your eyes, you exhaled, exhausted. You would never get enough of this. You’d come to that conclusion long ago, but each reminder was just as staggering as the last. 

You groaned, gulping down lungfuls of air and trying to still your trembling body as Kylo collapsed next to you. You moaned as he pulled you onto his chest, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, every slightest touch a small fire against your overly-sensitive skin. 

You moaned his name again. He hummed. His fingers trembled against your shoulder. Lying on his chest, you could feel the raggedness of his breath, rising and falling with each one. 

Soon, his breathing evened out. His fingers stilled, and they moved to stroke your hair. He released a long, low exhale. You turned your face to look at him, and saw that he was staring at the ceiling, eyes blank. He turned to you when he felt you staring. 

Kylo stroked the side of your face, brows knitting together just so in concern. 

“Alright?” He choked. 

Your clit throbbed again. You squeezed your eyes shut, and nodded. He hummed again, and pulled you tighter against his chest. His arms encircled your body, holding you against his frame. 

It took you longer for your breathing to steady. But he held you while it did, lips pressed against your hair, fingers stroking your back. After a while, you started to feel coherent again. Coherent, but completely exhausted. And then you registered the stinging pain against your ass. 

"I don’t think I can move.” 

“That’s okay. Breathe. Just breathe.” His fingers moved to your hair, and stroked lightly. “You were so good.” 

Your stomach fluttered. The arm draped across his chest tightened, as if you could pull him any closer than he already was. But your bodies were already flush. You were as close as you could possibly be. 

You didn’t think you’d ever feel the desire to move again. 

“Tired?” 

You nodded. It wasn’t late, but your body was warm, and your mind still fading so quickly that you felt like you were on the brink of consciousness. 

Groaning, you tried to prop yourself up on your elbow. “I don’t want to fall asleep.” 

With a guiding hand, Kylo flattened you against his chest again. “Rest,” he told you. “I’ll still be here when you wake up.” 

“Promise?” You mumbled. How many times had you woken up to an empty bed? He never roamed far; but it was more than just fearing he'd retreat back to his study once you were asleep. At what point would he leave you again? At what point would you be forced to relive that sickening day in the basement of Amedda Hall, when he’d broken you nearly beyond repair? 

Things were different now. You were sure of it. 

And still, your mind swam with doubt. Because even on that horrible, dark day, you’d been sure things were different then, too. 

He stroked your hair again. Your eyes fluttered shut. Fighting was a lost cause. 

“You don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he mumbled. “I feel it too.” 

Suddenly, with that, it was easier to relax. You closed your eyes. 

And you trusted that he'd be there when they opened. 


	47. Pre-Finale End Notes

Hi everybody. In light of the last chapter dropping soon, I have so much that I want to say to you all before we wrap it up here. 

I never imagined when I published the first chapter, it would get the response it’s gotten. I was shocked when so many of you responded when I confided in the notes about feeling like a failure as a writer. At 23, the world can seem so full of possibilities, and all of them unreachable. You all have been so kind, so encouraging, and I’m truly so grateful. Thank you so much for reading. You really didn’t have to, and you still did, and I’m so happy that you came along for the ride. 

I’ve really been struggling with the knowledge that this thing is ending, even though I know full well that I’ve taken this story as far as it’s meant to go, at least in this chapter of the characters’ lives. This fic has gotten me through a very, very dark time in my life. Some of you may know I also do professional theatre. Before quarantine, I felt that I was finally hitting my stride as an actor. I was really happy before corona, with big things in the works, and I feel like quarantine came in and completely upended my life--much like it has for many of you, as well. However, it also allowed me to rediscover my passion for writing, and I’m so grateful. I am once again writing my own original works and prepping for submissions to agencies as many of you guys have kindly suggested I should do. During the time I've been working on HMH, I've also completed the first and second drafts of a novel, and I have completed 30k+ words of another first draft. So thank you. You guys have gotten me through, too. The best part of my day is refreshing ao3/wattpad and reading all the comments, especially because it allows me to interact with you guys. 

That being said. 

Writing this fic was so gratifying, brought me so much joy, that I’m also not ready to leave that behind. So I am thrilled to announce my new fic, “The Final Order,” a SW-Universe KyloxReader fanfic which will be dropping on October 12th on AO3 and Wattpad. 

Finally...you guys are getting a bonus chapter. Per the request of @Coerced, I will be adding a retelling of a certain fan-favorite chapter from Kylo’s POV after I post the finale. You know the one. 

I don't mean to get sappy and annoying, but really wanted to thank you guys. Thanks to you, we are #4 on AO3 ALL explicit Kylo/Reader stories. 127,000 hits, and 3000 kudos. On Wattpad, we have an incredible 149,000 reads. I never even FATHOMED this kind of response--I truly didn't. So thank you to each and every one of you. And especially thank you for those commenting and tagging me in tiktoks, etc. It truly makes my day to interact with you guys, and I'm so happy to have found this incredible community.

So again, thank you for reading. This was a really, really, stupid fic that I wrote because I’m literally just horny for Kylo, and I love Star Wars. That’s really fucking dumb. And I can laugh about how silly it is, and I can take it not too seriously. But you guys have been so responsive to it, and that’s not silly to me at all. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.


	48. Half Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sighs* *marks fic as completed* *sits here and contemplates my life*
> 
> i would suggest listening to "half light" by the fossil collective on repeat while reading. please see endnotes as well. here's to one last time<3

**SIX MONTHS LATER**

A year and a half ago, you never would have thought that your former English Literature professor would be your plus one. To literally any function. You never imagined you’d live to see that day. 

But there you were—a year and a half after he’d asked you to stay behind after class on a fated fall afternoon. The two of you stood towards the back of the crowd as Finn and Poe walked, hand-in-hand, down the ivory rug that stretched from the door of the venue all the way to a Deep Dodge Cherokee. Poe’s doing, no doubt. “Just Married,” was written sloppily on the rear window. Empty beer cans were tied to the back of the vehicle. You held up a sparkler in your hand, as did almost all of the other wedding guests. 

Kylo was standing there, emptyhanded, but peaceful. His face was gentle and soft. Miles away from where he’d been when you first met. Over the past sixth months, you’d been able to put some distance between yourself and the university. It was a risk taking him to the wedding, and it was something you’d discussed in detail many times, over many glasses of various types of alcohol. 

But in the end, both of you had figured that you were graduated now. It was high time you were allowed to enjoy what you had in full. No more hushed dinner dates shoved into the backmost booth at a restaurant downtown. No more ducking into his house under the shroud of night. Nothing was keeping you from hiding anymore. 

And in all honesty, nothing was keeping you in Boston at all. 

You found yourself looking at him. The impossible darkness of his eyes were reflecting your sparkler. You found it unfair, to be honest—how effortless it was for him to be so utterly, fully perfect. Without even trying. Without even wanting to be. 

A smile cracked on your face as he watched two of your best friends chase their happiness. You felt your heart lighten and then swell. You squeezed Rose’s shoulder, and she gave you a grin. And then, you took Ren by the forearm, giving him a soft, knowing look. His brows rose slightly, but he followed you back inside the venue without argument. 

The banquet hall was deserted, dance floor empty. Low-falling balloons hugged the ground—a telltale sign of the night growing late. You walked towards the empty linoleum dance floor, turning to look at Ren. He’d taken a seat at one of the tables, watching you with growing suspicion on his expression. 

“What’s this?” He mused. 

“Just thinking about how you’ve been sitting all night. You owe me a dance.” 

“Absolutely not.” 

“You’re not gonna make me dance by myself are you? Wouldn’t be very boyfriend-ly of you.” 

Ren scoffed, but at least he cracked a smile. You couldn’t even hold yours back as you approached him, mischief threaded onto your features and glowing in your eyes. He grumbled his disapproval but rose effortlessly when you tugged on his arm. Your fingers grazed his as you lead him to the floor. It was late. Everyone was outside, and would be leaving soon. You were simply grateful to be alone. 

And, of course, there was a fact that no one in human existence had ever looked so flawless in a tuxedo. 

You sank into him as he wrapped his arms around your waist. Slowly, you slung yours around his neck. Your heart caught in your chest when you met his eyes. You’d been dating officially and without any major complications, for half a year. During that time, he was unemployed, and working on his writing. He had more than enough money to pursue his craft. But Kylo couldn’t even have a hobby without putting in a full force of effort. Sometimes he worked for hours on end, well into the night: reading, researching, and writing. You were immensely proud of him. But you also thanked your stars for each calm, silent, moment alone with him. It was rare for the wheels to stop turning in his brain, for him to lay down his laser-focused intensity. And it was still rare for him to put his guard down, too. 

But moments like these—the two of you, silent and still and impossibly close—they were the moments that you lived for. 

All your brain could comprehend were the two seas of dark amber staring back at you. He was doing that thing with his eyes again, that thing that you loved maybe more than anything else in the entire world. They were undividedly focused on you, boring into your gaze like he could see beyond your soul, curiosity gently etched onto his brow. He never stopped reading you, drinking you in, never stopped being awed and fascinated by your presence. 

Maybe he was awed that you loved him. 

Maybe he still had trouble believing it. 

You smiled. “What’re you thinking about?” You breathed. 

He cracked a smile, looking off somewhere behind your shoulder. “Just wondering what’s next for our little gradate.” 

You rolled your eyes, but grinned, nonetheless, lips stretching to light up your entire face. “You know, odd as it is, after everything that happened at the Bulletin, I don’t feel rushed to make a decision.” 

“Hmm.” 

“What's ‘hmm?’” 

“Just curious as to how that worked out.” 

“I don’t know,” you told him. “I spent months and months racing towards ‘outstanding senior,’ working so hard I nearly killed myself. All for an award I really didn’t care about. After I didn’t win, I sort of realized I should start chasing what makes me happy instead of what I think will make people think better of me. I just want to be fulfilled. I’ve published essay after essay, and I think that’s enough to be proud of.” 

“Interesting,” he mumbled, giving you a little spin. You twirled under the insurmountable height of his arm. “And how are you going to find what makes you happy?” 

You shrugged, landing in his arms once more. “I think for now, it means traveling. Seeing everything I haven’t seen yet. Experiencing cultures and people. Expanding my horizons” 

“That’s a tall order.” 

“Then I guess it’s a good thing my boyfriend can take me to all the incredible places he’s been before.” 

Kylo’s hand landed on your cheek, smoothing your skin, and his brows twitched with softness and affection. It made your heart kick in your chest. You felt your lips part. 

“I have an offer,” he confessed. 

You felt your eyes go wide, and your mind had no say in the impulse. It was purely reactionary. Because Kylo Ren never failed to fucking surprise you—for better, or for worse. “A teaching position.” 

Stunned, you felt your jaw fall to the floor, and you didn’t even bother picking it back up. “At a University?” 

He nodded. 

“In Boston?” 

“God, no. That ship has long sailed.” 

“Right,” you said, suddenly feeling nervous. “Where?” 

“Oxford.” 

If you'd still been nursing your vodka cran, you’d have spat it out. “Oxford? As in, Oxford, England?” 

“Yes.” 

“Hmm.” You swallowed thickly, and shortly realized that after everything you’d been through, you were too afraid to ask what that meant for the both of you. 

“It’s funny,” Kylo continued so you didn’t have to. “The opportunity of a lifetime. Maybe my greatest dream as an academic—fulfilled. And it’s all topped off by the fact that they have one of the most accomplished literary graduate programs in the world.” 

At first, you didn’t even process what he was saying to you. It didn’t hit you for a few full seconds. But when it did, it came with the force of a sack-full of bricks, and suddenly, you felt winded. 

“I...are you serious?” You asked. “ _Me?”_

_“_ Who else?” He mused. He had that look in his eye—the same one you’d seen a thousand times before, the same one you’d fallen in love with a long time ago. Amusement. Interest. Challenge. He eyed you like the question didn’t benefit him, but instead, it was meant for you. Ever the analyzer, Kylo grinned as he watched you put the pieces together, watched you come to the conclusion. 

“Kylo, I _just said_ I can’t commit to any jobs or grad programs right now.” 

“You wouldn’t have to,” he told you, taking your face in his hands, squishing your cheeks a little. “It’s a permanent position. You have all the time in the world to decide.” His face lowered towards yours. You stopped breathing. “ _We_ have all the time in the world.” 

Your eyes were locked with his. He was sucking the oxygen out of your lungs with nothing but a gentle stare. Funny how long you two had been together, in one way or another, and it never got old. _He_ never got old. He’d never grown easier on your heart or your mind. 

You’d never quite gotten used to Kylo Ren. 

“I won’t go if you don’t want me to,” he breathed. “I’ll stay with you. But I have to ask you. I need to know.” 

Your mind was swimming. Weren’t you just saying you wanted to see what the far reaches of the world had to offer? And now, the opportunity had fallen into your palm. But surpassingly, that didn’t matter much to you. Not when he said he would stay behind. If that’s what _you_ wanted. 

That considered, the answer was easy. 

“I love you,” you breathed suddenly, thumbing the thick fabric of his suit jacket, feeling its roughness under the pads of your fingers. 

Kylo swallowed thickly, and his gaze dropped to his feet. You watched as the muscles under his jaw rippled under the skin, a telltale sign that he was just as tense as he usually was. 

He’d told you once that he hadn’t asked to love you, and he still hadn’t been able to say anything beyond that. And you’d responded by pulling him close and telling him that you didn’t need to hear it. You didn’t need to because you could _feel_ it. You could feel it in the way he was so afraid to tell you out of fear of losing you. You could feel it in the way he drew you against his chest and held you there all night long. You could feel it in the way his arms darted out to catch you if you ever tripped on a crack in the sidewalk downtown, almost with an intensity. And more than anything, it was in his eyes. Always. Kylo may have felt like he’d forfeited his right, or perhaps lost the ability, to love at all. Strangely enough, it didn’t scare you anymore. At least, not as much as it once had. 

Because Kylo Ren was made to be a warrior of his own mind, a protector of his body and soul. But now, he was a protector of others. _Your_ protector _._ You didn’t need words to know that he would burn down the world to see you smile. Despite all you’d bene through, there was no longer a doubt in your mind that you’d keep each other safe as long as he’d let you love him. 

When Kylo raised his gaze, he stared at you with that same inquisitive wonder, that same drawn brow. But his features held something else now, too. Something flickered behind his eyes, and you could feel it without having to hear him say it. 

It was guilt. Guilt for all the pain, a silent apology that would have burned his throat to utter. 

He breathed your name. You softened, cupping his face in your hands. 

“I know,” you breathed. 

Kylo exhaled. You watched as his lips trembled, watched the conflict etched onto his face. It was like he wasn’t sure whether he needed to kiss you or beg for your forgiveness. His brow twitched. The breath left your body, and you let him in. 

His lips fell against yours, and you let your eyes flutter shut. You didn’t hesitate to hold him tightly against you. You heard him inhale sharply through his nose as he seemed to swell under your touch. When he pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. You stared into his eyes from mere inches away. He was dark and enchanting. 

“Will you come with me?” He asked you, gripping your waist a hairbreadth harder. 

You answered on an exhale, breath rattling softly. “I’d follow you anywhere.” 

His lips sank onto yours once more, this time, with more intensity. You roiled under his touch, feeling your blood threaten to burst through your skin. And you knew plainly that your place was with him. 

And you were happy. Happy that you were together, with a lifetime of possibility ahead of you. Happy that you’d taken his armor off. Happy that he was letting you love him. Happy that over the past year and a half, he had made you feel every emotion, vibrant and deep and gritty and overwhelming, that now, you burned with passion. 

Kylo kissed you like it was a matter of survival. He always did. And you kissed him back with the knowledge that he was a man threaded with rich scars. A man who had been broken many times over. But you didn’t, and wouldn’t, want anybody else. You kissed him fiercely and returned to his bed that night as you had many nights before, and as you would continue to do for as long as fate allowed. And you kissed him knowing that you could love him in every shade of darkness he had to offer, and as always, keep one foot in the light. 

**THE END.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, guys. It's the end of a fucking era. I would just like to update you on the numbers we've achieved together since posting my last update, as they've grown even since then. On AO3, 2789 kudos. 104,000+ hits. On wattpad, an unbelievable 175,000 reads. I want to make it clear that I don't do this for the numbers; I do this because I have something to share. However, I also want to make it clear how unbelievably grateful I am for your engagement and support. I am stunned beyond words. Your kindness continues to shock me. I really hope you will stick around for my next fic, "the final order," and remember that there is one more bonus chapter coming out. thank you again. I love you all dearly.


	49. Bonus: I'm The Only One You'd Do This For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a retelling of chapter 31 from Kylo’s POV.

Kylo was waiting until they were alone.

That was something he’d never admit—not even to himself.

He sat alone in his office, and as the clock droned on past five, he kept working. He was no busier than usual, but he was _always at least somewhat busy_. Which made it all the easier to justify once all the other employees had begun to file out.

Early on in the evening, he’d phoned his assistant and put her on speaker so he wouldn’t have to pick up the receiver.

“Hello, Mr. Ren.” She answered on the first ring.

“That replacement receptionist—is she staying late tonight?” His voice was curt, and he didn’t bother giving her any greeting.

“Yes, sir; she told me until about seven o’clock.”

“Very good.”

“Are you not leaving yet? Should I stay late as well, sir?”

Kylo couldn’t help but note the small burst of hopefulness in his assistant’s voice. He paid it no mind.

“No,” he told her abruptly, gaze and attention dropping to scribble down a note onto the document in front of him. Brinna was staying on the line on borrowed time; with each second that passed, his focus was leaving her and centering back on the work in front of him.

“Okay,” she said after a few seconds. Long enough for Kylo to nearly forget she was still there.

“Thank you, Brinna.”

“Have a good night, sir,” she said in a small voice.

He heard a click, and his desktop phone went silent.

And he went back to work.

Over the next hour and a half that passed, he heard the telltale of scuffling outside his closed office door, a clear sign of people leaving their cubicles and desks, heading towards reception to leave the office for the night. And then, it was silent for quite some time. Every time he would set down his pen so he could hear over the scratching of his notations. His eyes would flicker towards the door. And he would know that the girl was on the other side. Every once in a while, he thought he could hear her tapping away on her keyboard. Setting down her coffee mug onto her desk. Holding his air still and silent in his lungs, Kylo listened for her breath, but she was too far away.

He tapped his pen on his desk in agitation, waiting for the right moment. He actually did have a lot to do, but it was difficult to focus on his work. Kylo wasn’t a man accustomed to anxiety. He tried to squash it down. For a while, it worked.

But then, about half an hour early, he heard her get up and walk towards the back offices, and saw the light go out from the other side of the crack under his door.

Kylo scrambled to his feet. He didn’t want to miss his chance; he’d been so engrossed in his work, he hadn’t even bothered to check the time. Now, however, as he glanced at his watch, he realized that she was leaving a full half hour earlier than Brinna said she would.

For a moment, his inhibitions left him. He didn’t think about collecting himself as he burst through his office door.

He also didn’t expect her to be standing right there.

Kylo’s breath stalled abruptly in his throat as he set his eyes on the girl for the first time in—well, far too long.

She stared back, brow pinched, eyes wide, brimming with genuine confusion. It dawned on him in an instant—the shock so plainly threaded onto her soft features.

She hadn’t even known that he was there.

A small, micro-eruption of pride settled into his chest, and he rolled back his shoulders, watching as the coat she was holding in her hand dropped from her grip and landed sadly on the floor.

And then she turned over the shoulder, and wrenched herself away from him.

Kylo allowed himself to be shocked for a split-second, before taking off down the hallway after her. He didn’t know what he should have expected. A part of him thought maybe she’d let him grab her right then and there. Would let him lift her up press her back right against his door, in the middle of the dark, empty hallway. He certainly wouldn’t have been opposed.

He rubbed his jaw as he quickly closed the distance between their bodies, even as she scurried away. She dipped into the pantry and he followed without warning, ducking inside and shutting the door behind him. Then, his gaze zeroed in on her. And he realized that it was just the two of them. Alone. In a very, very small room.

This was better. Even though everyone else was gone, there was something about being behind closed doors that felt like a marginally smarter move—not that there was anything smart at all about sleeping with his student, and then his employee. She looked like a baby deer caught in the headlights standing against the opposite wall like that. He stayed where he was, not wanting to frighten the little thing too much. He left the distance between them as it was. But good Lord in heaven did he drink her in—the hurt and fear in her eyes. She looked so angry—was she angry at the fact that he was there, or angry at herself for still wanting him? Kylo’s eyes grazed her entire frame, particularly over her chest, which was heaving with full, heavy breaths. His cock twitched in his pants, stirring with an unmistakable sensation. Kylo swallowed.

He couldn’t look away. It had been two long—half a year of aching for her touch, to feel the familiar drag of her lips across his skin, fingers through his hair. Half a year of burying himself in somebody else and pushing their faces into the pillow so he could just pretend that all of them were her. Half a year of hating her, half a year of swearing she was beyond forgiveness for what she’d done to his mind. Half a year of torture. Six months of agony.

But before he could lunge forward, before he could snuff the flame that was scorching his skin, she leapt against him.

His breath left his lungs in the same moment his back hit the door. His blood surged, and he tried to inhale, but suddenly, her forearm was bracing his clavicle, pinning him to the wood behind him. He didn’t even bother to breathe when his eyes found her face again. It was drawn in anger. She looked like a fury. She looked strong. Kylo felt a surge of pride for her, not that she’d want it.

She shoved him again, for good measure, apparently. Kylo bit back a moan as his cock throbbed in his pants. It was beginning to strain the fabric. He clenched his jaw.

“How fucking dare you,” she seethed. “You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve, you know that? Who the fuck do you think you are, slithering back into my life like this? You have no fucking right?”

Kylo pursed his lips in frustration—anger, arousal, all of it. Fuck. He might be asking her the same question. He had hardly stayed at the Press to spend _more_ time with the girl, and if it were up to him, he’d forget her altogether. He hardly expected her to waltz into his place of work just as he was trying so hard to pry her claws out of his mind.

“I didn’t-” he tried, intending that he was the last person who would have had anything to do with her employment there, but he didn’t get the chance.

“You just stay the fuck away from me and let me do my job,” she clipped, cutting off his words. “I deserve to be here, you pathetic asshole.”

Kylo felt his lips part before he could stop himself, shifting against her body which was so, painfully close to his.

She stepped closer, probably to make another point of how furious she was. That was when her hips brushed the tent in his pants. He clenched his jaw.

Well, fuck.

Her jaw dropped, and Kylo’s eyes fell down to where her hip was touching his dick. It’d been so long since he’d felt her. And as angry as she seemed, her body had finally gone still. He thought he heard her say something, but he couldn’t have been sure. His blood was pumping in his ears, dulling half of his senses. He swallowed thickly, feeling his own desire mounting in his veins. She had about two seconds to get off of him before Kylo reached a point he wouldn’t be able to come down from.

But just as Kylo’s mind was fogging over, she snapped up her hand, yanking him from his haze of arousal. His eyes snatched to hers in an instant, almost begging her to make the blow.

But she didn’t.

“You called me naïve,” she whispered, voice trembling. “Weak.” There was pain in her eyes. Kylo hadn’t known his words had caused her so much distress. He hadn’t known she’d held onto them for half a year.

“Do it, then,” he murmured, nodding towards her trembling fist.

She shook her head, and Kylo clenched his jaw in anger.

Was this little slut really going to make him beg for it?

“Do it!” He demanded, but to his disappointment, his voice nearly broke. His nostrils flared. His chest expanded with a deep inhale, and he tried to quell the frenzy that was mounting in his blood. It would be so easy. To tackle her to the floor, pin her against the counter; she would _want_ him to. She’d never been able to resist him before. As angry as she was now, Kylo knew that nothing had changed.

“No,” she responded. "I’m not like you.”

“Aren’t you?” He asked, lifting his brow. He could sense her fury, and suddenly, she reminded him of himself more than anybody else. More than the woman he’d known six months ago. Maybe it should have given him pause, the way she had seemed to change. But his cock was aching. His throat felt dry. And he was tired of games. Still, she was resisting.

But then, finally, something inside of her broke. Kylo’s eyes narrowed as he saw a flicker of her old features on her face, the same vulnerability, or naivety, perhaps, that he’d seen so many times when they’d been together before. Her arm went slack, like she was giving up. Kylo's heart clenched at her softness, and he realized that in the same instant, it was now or never.

Seizing the sides of her face, he pulled her against him, lips finding hers six months too late, and the dam burst open. Kylo was unable to hold back. Months upon months of fury and desire were roiling inside of him, and suddenly, everything he’d yearned for was his for the taking. He wasted no time slipping his tongue into her mouth, feeling and tasting her softness and warmth. And she was letting him. It was just how he remembered her—unable to hold onto her anger long enough to remember she wanted to resist him. He groaned against her lips, seizing her body in his hands to pin her against the counter on the right-hand wall.

But then, just as soon as Kylo thought she was giving into him, she shoved him away, gripping him firmly by the collars of his dress-shirt. Kylo held his breath as she kept their bodies separated by mere inches. “I’ll show you weak,” she seethed.

Something stirred inside of Kylo, and he swallowed down another moan. He nearly cracked a smile. _Give me everything you’ve got_.

With one hand on his jaw and the other gripping his tie, she flipped him their bodies around so she was the one pressing him against the counters. Kylo growled into her mouth as she kissed him again, but noticed her lips were sloppy and unfocused and unforgiving. And it was driving him wild. He released a shuddering moan, begging her without words to go harder.

Kylo wasn’t a stranger to being in control—that much was an understatement. But even then, especially then, he could feel himself slipping. Aching for more. His lips and tongue knew no direction, only that they craved her cruelty.

It had been too long, and his control was wavering.

Without thinking, Ren darted his hands towards his belt. But to his surprise, the girl actually smacked them away. He rose his gaze, looking at her with eyes that had blown wide with shock. Never had she done anything like that before. Never would Ren have allowed it. But there he was, so weak with desperation, that when her hand flew to grasp his jaw, all he could do was tremble.

He growled again, and his achingly hard cock brush her center. She smirked, eyes darting downwards to examine the state he was in. “Who’s weak now?” She breathed, breath fanning across Kylo’s mouth. He shuddered under the heat of her lips, which dipped towards his neck to lick a broad stripe up his skin.

“You can tell me I’m fragile, Ren, and you can tell me I can’t resist you.” She pulled away then, and the aching in Kylo’s pants was growing more and more unbearable. But her behavior...her words...how easily she chided him—he'd never seen anything like it. Not from her. What should have infuriated him had only rendered him speechless. “But you and I both know,” she breathed, hand sliding across his chest, “That you have needs that can’t be silenced. You’re desperate. And you need me. You don’t want to, but I’m in your mind, in your dreams, under your fucking skin.”

Kylo trembled. She was using his own words against him. Words he never should have confessed. Words he hadn’t meant to. Months ago, when he confided in her, out of pure anger in outrage, that he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head despite his deepest wishes for her to just disappear, he never thought that they’d be used as a weapon against him. She was always so sweet back then. But now, now...

Now, she was _everything_ and more.

“Tearing you apart,” she whispered, leaning in to breath the words across his lips.

He was going to burst. He was sure of it. He wanted to fling her to the ground, but for some ungodly reason, he could barely even breathe, let alone move. He wanted her too badly. She’d weakened him beyond repair.

It was agony, he thought, as she leaned upwards to capture his lips once again.

He molded his mouth to hers, moaning beneath her lips, not even able to discern whether the sound was a product of pleasure or pain. His cock was aching, and she could tell. Kylo knew she could tell. And she was ravishing in his pain.

Thing was, though, she looked damn good doing it.

She pulled back with a smack of her lips, lifting herself to sit on the counter.

And then she began to undress.

“I’ve had enough of going whatever you want me to do. Now, we’re going to talk about what I want to do.” Kylo swallowed as he swallowed her down with his eyes since it was all he could do. Her shirt flitted to the floor, and he clenched his fists. “Come take my skirt off,” she ordered.

Kylo furrowed his brow. He should resist. He shouldn’t want this. He should want nothing other than to be in control. He should throw her to the ground and fuck her however he wanted. But one side of his brain couldn’t keep up with the other, and without knowing why, without even thinking, Kylo found himself complying. He stepped forward with a curt nod, and his hands drifted to grasp his cock through his pants in an attempt to quell the painful need for friction.

“Don’t fucking touch yourself,” she ordered sharply.

Kylo clenched his jaw in fury, but complied, but stepped as close as the counters lining the wall would allow. He placed his hands on her hips and closed his eyes. The feeling of the warmth of her skin breaching the smooth fabric of her skirt...he missed it. He missed everything about the girl. He missed fucking the life out of her.

His hands were trembling as he pulled the fabric down her thighs, and as she ordered him to leave her stilettos on. As he pulled the skirt over her feet, he couldn’t help but admire the shoes. They were a good look for her. She looked powerful.

And if there was anything Kylo liked, it was power.

“Knees.”

 _No_ , his mind responded, eyes darting up to capture her gaze. But she wouldn’t give. It was clear on his face. If he was going to have her, it was going to have to be by her rules. He bit his tongue and sank to his knees, and was met with the solace of her cunt sitting only mere inches from his face.

She opened her legs wide, and didn’t need to say anything. Slowly, Kylo moved, his hands skimming her sinfully soft thighs. His throat clenched as he swallowed, trying and failing to keep himself composed. But his fingers were nearly trembling as he hooked them beneath her panties, pulling them to the side to reveal her folds.

He wasted no time in diving against her, lips meeting her sex, eyes fluttering shut as he worked his tongue. Instantly, her taste brought him back to the early days of their relationship, and memories he’d been trying to block out came flooding back to him. They infiltrated his mind, clouding his usually resolute stature, and all of the rules he’d set up for himself were thrown out the window. He told himself he’d never allow her to weaken him again. But there he was, lips buried against her cunt, wholly unable to resist her.

She was indecently wet, but he could hardly hold that against her when he was coming apart at the seams. Besides, there was no point in acting like he didn’t like it. He stroked his tongue upward, coating it in her slick cum, savoring her taste, feeling her buzz beneath his mouth. He was at least managing to appear well put together—until she gripped his hair and pulled. Hard. Kylo moaned in pleasure, dipping his tongue against her entrance.

But then, she straightened up beneath him. “Up,” she commanded. Without even meaning to, without even giving himself the chance to argue, he did as she said. And then she grabbed him, pulling his lips to hers. She captured his mouth in a deep, sensual kiss, and Kylo felt her tongue dive into his mouth. He fought the urge to moan, but when she pulled away, he realized he wanted more.

“Do you want to fuck me?” She lilted.

He swallowed heavily. “Yes,” he admitted.

“And why should I let you? You say I can’t resist you, but you’re the one coming apart.”

He grit his teeth, fighting the urge to scream. How long was this going to go on for? How long was she going to milk his misery, his agony? “Because, I- _fuck_ ,” he growled. She stroked a finger up his throbbing cock, teasing him through the fabric of his dress pants. He threw his head back, releasing an indecent groan.

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” She mumbled.

Gritting his teeth harder, if possible, he gave her a single, stiff nod.

“Then I guess you should probably admit that you need it.”

He lowered his gaze, but didn’t meet her eyes. 

And that was where he drew the line. 

She wouldn’t make him beg. No one would. Not now. Not ever. He’d rather leave with his cock as hard as a fucking rock. He’d rather lock himself away in one of the men’s bathroom stalls and take care of it himself “No,” he growled.

Kylo heard her inhale as she hopped off the counter. And then he realized she was bending down and gathering her clothes. He clenched with tension. Okay, so maybe leaving without getting what he wanted wasn’t an option. 

Maybe she needed reminding who was in charge.

He lunged forward, seizing her by the arms, wrenching her upright and pinning her against the counter. But in the instant before he could claim her lips as his, he heard a loud crack in the air.

He heard the sound before he registered the pain.

Heat erupted, exploding over the left side of his face, stinging his cheek. He felt his eyes go wide with shock, but he couldn’t formulate a single thought. All he knew was that he was now past the point of maintaining his dignity. His cock throbbed within the confines of his dress pants.

“Yes,” he breathed, meeting her gaze, jaw tight. “Yes, I need to fuck you. Please.”

She exhaled through her nose and lifted her chin, but something inside her quaked, like she hadn’t expected his response. Like she didn’t completely know what to do about it. But for whatever reason, as she lifted herself back on the counter, she seemed to accept the role that she’d walked into.

He didn’t think that she’d come prepared to really hurt him. But for the past six months—beyond that, really—he'd been lost. Aimless. Now, the one thing he was desperate to hold onto was a sense of control. He’d failed utterly in provided that for himself.

And then she waltzed back into his life. Brimming with confidence. And he ached to feel the strike of her hand again.

He met her eyes. He’d never seen them so cold before. But he knew that finally, she understood.

Kylo crashed against her, lips finding hers, feeling her tongue breach his mouth. She yanked him forward by the beltloops, undoing his pants and reaching inside, teasing his cock over his briefs. He shuddered against her lips as finally—finally—she felt his length firmly under her hand, giving him at least a portion of the friction he was dying for.

“Are you going to give me what I want?” She breathed.

“I-”

“Not fast enough.” Before Kylo could even complete his thought, her free hand was wrapped within his dark hair, wrenching his head to the side. He growled in pain, and his cock stirred again. He gasped for air, throat feeling impossibly dry. “That should be a resounding yes.”

“Yes,” he hissed, voice dripping with aimless fury.

“Good,” she purred. And then, her hand dipped beneath the confines of his briefs. And for the first time in months, he felt the warmth of her hand wrapped around his length, without the barrier of fabric, without solely appearing in a dream. His eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. She’d taken him to the brink, nearly past his limits. Every part of him ached with desperation, his cock already leaking his desire. She began to stroke him but the motions were slow, her thumb torturous as it dragged over his overly-sensitive head. He grit his teeth and huffed in pain, heavy breaths falling through his nostrils. 

She was going to kill him. She was going to fucking kill him.

“You’re going to fuck this pussy because I’m going to let you,” she continued. “You don’t deserve me. You don’t even compare to me. You’re sad and pathetic and desperate, and if you don’t make me cum, then I’ll make sure as hell I leave you a dribbling, ruined mess.” The words fell directly across his lips, and he quivered. He deserved it. The punishment. The pain. He wanted it. And he was breaking. “So,” she breathed. “Do you think you can make me cum?”

If there was one thing he could do, it was that. Again, he thought about their nights together. How easy it had been for them. How he wished they could go back. As he nodded, his forehead fell against hers. She dipped away from him. She didn’t want his affection. Why would she? 

“Then fucking prove it,” she hissed.

Inhaling shakily, Kylo didn’t waste a second. He was about to burst at the seams. He fumbled forward, grunting as he lined himself up at her entrance, sliding himself inside.

She was tight. Tighter than he remembered. Tighter than what felt real, what felt possible. He stuttered on an exhale as something inside of him crumbled. He sank into the relief he’d been so desperate for. His muscles relaxed as he drew himself away, only to thrust inside of her once again.

She mewled against his ear and he drew away to hold her gaze. Her eyes were wide and hungry. As Kylo found a pace, she reached behind herself to release her bra from its clasps. It fell to the floor, and in the same moment, she raised her hands to knead at her soft breasts. Kylo held his jaw tightly as his gaze fell to her chest. This wasn’t for him. It was for her. For the pleasure of teasing him, of torturing him.

But he’d been without her body for too long. He’d suffered without her touch, without the feel of her slopes and curves beneath his mouth. And he missed her. He sank into her, lips diving towards her tits, desperate to take them in between his lips, to drag his tongue across her skin. She caught him in less than a second, shoving him away. He nearly stumbled but managed to catch himself, gaze snapping towards hers. All the while, he kept working his hips.

“Your only job is to fuck me,” she breathed apathetically. “I don’t need you for anything else. You’re useless to me, do you understand? You’re useless.”

Something inside of him seemed to quake. He’d never seen her like this. And in a strange way, he felt comforted by her power and control, even by her hatred. It made him want to envelop her, or let _her_ envelop _him_. He clenched his teeth to stifle a groan as the tightness of her walls milked his cock. He didn’t kiss her, but he held her gaze. Stared at her as he thrusted into her heat, feeling her legs rattle beneath the weight of his thrusts. He could feel himself growing hot, feel a layer of sweat burgeoning on his forehead. His neat hair was falling loosely, tousled by the assault from her fingers. He felt positively unraveled. Indecent.

And it was absolutely fucking delicious.

Pleasure overtook him. With each passing moment, more and more of his mind left him, until there was nothing in his head. Nothing but the urgency for desire. For release. For _her_. He grunted, letting groans tumble from him lips. And with his inhibitions abandoning him, he dipped in to kiss her. She allowed him, but only for a moment. Then, she shoved him towards her neck. He collapsed against her, supporting himself by his hands, pressed into the counter, all of him having gone slack with the exception of his shaking legs and thrusting hips.

He mumbled and moaned into her neck, and she whimpered and gasped in turn. That only spurred him on more; every noise that fell from her throat twisted something inside of Kylo, added to his pleasure, but added also to the danger brewing deep inside of his chest.

“Mmm. More,” she breathed. His gaze found hers. He saw her face, and softened. It only made the fury and disgust she’d made it so clear she felt for him etch itself back onto her face. “Don’t be weak. Fuck me like you mean it,” she spat, clenching his jaw and throwing his face to the side. 

Kylo inhaled sharply, fingers tightening around the edge of the counter. But he clenched his jaw and slammed into her before his hands flew to her waist, tugging her against him so she met him halfway. His lips fell open and he groaned, feeling himself breach her deeper. Every inch of his cock was coated thoroughly in her wetness, his entire length sheathed inside of her cunt.

“ _Good_ ,” she stuttered, breathing hitching. “ _So good_.”

“Fuck,” he stammered, feeling himself falling apart, and not caring to stop it. “ _God, you’re- fuck_." He didn’t have the sense to say anything else.

“ _Yes_ ,” she gasped, body quaking beneath the weight of his ramming hips. “ _Yes_. Fucking make me cum.”

He wasn’t worried about hurting her. They could hurt each other. That would have been the divinity he longed for. He could feel himself stretching her out as he pounded into her, and she clutched at his shirt for support. But then her lips were at his neck. He fluttered in response, feeling her lips, wet and sloppy, drag across his skin, across his collar. His cock twitched inside of her cunt, and he knew she was close. He knew that he was, too.

His eyes were wide, pupils blown, as he watched her. His gaze was glued to her face, but he was trying to take in as much of her body as humanly possible. He’d been with her long enough to realize when she was about to cum. He’d all but memorized her body. At first, she tensed, and then she began to shake. Her back wrenched upright and she threw her head back. Kylo’s mouth watered as he watched her cum, thrusting madly through her pleasure, sending jolts of ecstasy through her already peaking body. Her face was wrenched in ecstasy, as if trying to hold back a scream. But then her lips fell open, brows rose, and she released a strained, choked moan, a low scream that tore through her throat. The sound alone made something inside of Kylo shift. His stomach, his chest, his insides grew warm. He tingled with the beginnings of pleasure waiting to seize him. As she collapsed against his body, he could feel his own orgasm brewing.

Her body was relaxing, but his was just getting started. Watching her—staring at her as she came—turned Kylo into something that almost wasn’t human. She was limp and soft against his body, but he kept thrusting into her like his life depended on it, like her body wasn’t trying to recover from its unbelievable high.

He stuttered. Knowing he was close.

And that was the moment she shoved him away.

“No," she growled, watching him stumble backwards from the unexpected weight of her hands. He stood lamely, confused, cock in hand, confusion and anger etched on his face.

“Jerk yourself off like the pathetic scum you are. Cum on the fucking floor.”

Fury flickered inside of him, but he couldn’t stop touching himself. That was the trouble—he was on the brink of pleasure, but too close to stop. He stroked his cock furiously, his entire body screaming in the abandonment of her warmth and heat. It only took a few pumps to drive him over the edge, but he came sadly and quickly, wishing more than anything that he was still buried in the comfort of her cunt.

His jaw fell open as he watched the cum land on the floor beneath his feet. And he stared down at the lower half of his body, eyes blown in shock. Shock with himself. He stood there with his pants low around his hips, his cum gleaming on the linoleum, desperation and shame blooming on his cheeks.

She lifted her leg. Stunned at her apparent flexibility, his brow lifted as she lifted her ankle onto his shoulder. He was so pleasantly surprised by the view that he didn’t argue when she began to shove him to the floor. His knees hit the floor, and then his palms. He was met with the all-too-close sight of his own cum, inches beneath his eyes. He breathed heavily.

He’d completely lost control.

And he didn’t even know how to feel about it. Slowly, he lifted his gaze up towards hers. Silently begging for guidance.

“Shirt,” she ordered. “And skirt.”

Feeling himself blush, he lowered his eyes to the floor, hands fumbling as he gathered her clothing and held them up towards her. She didn’t look at him as she dressed, but Kylo couldn’t look away.

Once she was decent, she knelt in front of Kylo. He jaw tightened and he swallowed thickly. He burst with warmth as she seized his jaw ungently. Suddenly, everything was silent, _painfully_ silent and heavily silent. Because she was staring into his eyes. Saying nothing.

Then, she cocked her head, examining the lipstick stains that smudged the collar of his shirt.

“Do you have a woman to go home to tonight?” She asked.

His gaze fell, and jaw tightened even more, until he felt like his teeth would shatter. Shame burned inside of him. And horrifyingly, he liked it.

“Good luck explaining this to her,” she lilted, giving his cheek a light slap. He grunted softly under the weight of her hand, ashamed to admit that it stirred something inside of him all over again. “And clean the fucking floor.”

He only looked at her once she’d turned around, pupils blown and brows lifted in shock as she shimmied from the room, high heels clattered against the floor. And he sat like that for a while. He sank back to sit on his heels, but stared at the stain on the floor, wondering what it said about him.

He was silent, mind slowly flickering back to life, chest heaving.

Kylo didn’t have a clue what to do about the girl, but he supposed he knew where to start.

With trembling hands, he reached into his pocket, withdrawing his phone. He typed a sloppy, indifferent message to the girl he’d met at the bar last weekend. Steph, he thought her name was. He couldn’t remember for sure. He hadn’t even saved a contact, but they’d already exchanged a few messages about meeting. That very night.

He told her not to even bother to show up. 


End file.
